


You Can Take Off All My Clothes And Never See Me Naked

by RagingBookDragon



Category: Assassin's Creed - All Media Types
Genre: Assault, Beginnings, Canon-Typical Violence, Eventual Romance, Explicit Language, Flirting, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Past Abuse, Slow Build, Slow Burn, Slow Romance, Tags May Change, Threats of Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-27
Updated: 2020-11-30
Packaged: 2021-03-09 21:15:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 9
Words: 22,852
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27732886
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RagingBookDragon/pseuds/RagingBookDragon
Summary: They met at the tavern, just a simple serving girl, but underneath her hardened and abrasive surface there's something hidden. Something deep, something delicate--something that Haytham can't help but want to unravel. She won't answer questions about her past and they're lucky to get anything out of her without third-degree coming with it. With her joining the Order, will he be able to unravel why she's so secretive? Will he learn the real reason behind her strong vigilantism? Or will she disappear into the night like she's done many times before, leaving him with a broken heart and more questions?
Relationships: Haytham Kenway/Reader
Comments: 28
Kudos: 16





	1. Ask Me Why They Used To Say That Trouble Was My Name

**Author's Note:**

> Who is this author with the damn good summary??? Let's be real, that's a damn good one! I kept thinking about this idea, and originally had written the first part a different way, but changed it. I'm aiming for at least 4 to 5 parts, but again, let's be honest, I wing EVERYTHING. Regardless, I hope you enjoy! -Thorne

“Tell me about the tavern we’re going to Charles.”

The man looked to the Grandmaster with a smile. “Oh, I believe it’s called _The Ethereal Crew Tavern_.”

Haytham cocked an eyebrow. “Quite an odd name for a colonial tavern.”

“How so? Charles wondered, trying to understand the statement.

“Most taverns this side of the Atlantic usually have humor in the name.” He glanced at the other Templars coming their way to the crossroads. “ _The Ethereal Crew_ almost sounds mystical.”

“I’d never thought about that.” Charles remarked, and the Templars stopped to greet the larger group.

“Evening Master Kenway.” The Irishman thrust a thumb back to the road. “Tavern’s just up the way here.”

Haytham nodded, greeting the other Templars in the group before taking the lead, going into an easy conversation with them.

The tavern came into sight, easily a two-floored building from the view. The cracked slate gray paint along the side reminded Haytham of the old boats that he saw dry docked when he was a child at Queen Anne’s Square. It made a bitter taste form in his mouth as he thought about his father and family. The borders of the doors and windows were painted with an onyx coat, and as they climbed the stairs, they caught sight of the sign next to the door. Someone had hand painted a crew of ghostly pirates standing behind a captain with swords and pistols raised. Haytham couldn’t help but huff quietly at the sign, hand curling around the door to open it.

They stepped inside and he was mildly surprised to see such a relative cleanliness within. Sure, there was a spill of ale here and there, but a certain level of neatness blanketed the place. His eyes drifted up the walls to the Jolly Roger flags hung up. Whether they’d been sewn and hung for decoration or were real flags, he didn’t know, but to hang them up so brazenly, the pub owner obviously didn’t fear reprimand. Haytham didn’t know if he should’ve praised them for their audacious bravery or _sheer stupidity_. Time would tell if he managed to meet the owner. A woman appeared in his peripheral from behind the counter.

She offered a polite smile to them. “Good evening, gentlemen.” They tipped their heads in greeting. “You must be the group under,” her eyes drifted to the writing board she had in her hand, “Kenway?”

Haytham nodded. “We are.”

Her smile brightened and she tipped her head. “Fantastic! If you’ll follow me, I’ll show you to the back!” She appeared from around the counter and started through a doorway, leaving them to follow.

They entered into a backroom and Haytham was pleasantly surprised at how elegant it looked. Perhaps that was the wrong word—more refined in the piracy theme. She watched them take their seats before stepping between his and Thomas’s seat. “My name is (Y/N) and I’ll be handling your orders for tonight.” She gestured to the table. “The cards in front of you hold the items our tavern serves. The first page is the specials for the evening, the next page is the normal dishes.” (Y/N) gently turned the card in Haytham’s grip with a quiet, ‘ _excuse me._ ’ “And the back is the listing of our drinks. We serve alcoholic drinks as well as non, and we have quite a bigger selection than most taverns in the colonies.”

“How do you manage that?” Shay piped up, obviously impressed.

She smiled at him. “We have exclusive deals with many dealers and traders across the seas and lands. We also happen to brew some of our own liquors.” (Y/N) looked at them. “Can I start you off with drinks?” her eyes drifted to Haytham.

He nodded. “I’ll take champagne.”

“Shall I bring the bottle?” Haytham tipped his head. “Of course, sir.” Her eyes drifted to the Shay. “And for you?”

“Take a pint of Guinness, lass.”

(Y/N) quietly nodded, taking the rest of the orders, and with a quick of the quill into its holder, she said, “I’ll go get those ready. In the meantime, please decide what you’ll be eating for the evening.”

Before she could leave, Thomas had an arm around her waist, and she froze. He gestured for her to lean over and when she did, Haytham watched her eyes go wide at whatever the man had whispered in her ear.

She let out a laugh, but someone as well trained as he could tell it was one to hide the embarrassment she felt. She pulled from his grip and remarked, “Now sir, you should focus on dinner.” Thomas merely gave (Y/N) a salacious grin and Haytham watched her flee as inconspicuously as she could. His eyes narrowed on the man who didn’t seem to feel the weighted gaze, immediately going into conversation with Charles and William.

***

Laughter echoed from behind the closed doors and (Y/N) sighed internally—partial tiredness, the other part infuriated. _God, what I wouldn’t give for these bastards to go home already._ Every time she’d gone into the room, that _lecher_ Thomas had made some inappropriate comment or put his hands on her. She could feel the thread that held her patience fraying and it was about to snap.

She needed the money this place provided though, and she slapped a smile on her face, stepping into the room. “My, my, it seems you’re all having a great time!” They raised their glasses in return save for the one at the head of the table. He’d removed his tricorn since (Y/N) had left. Her eyes rested on him for a few moments—he didn’t seem the type to drink in excess somewhere he didn’t feel secure. He was rather handsome in her opinion, dressed in clothes too sharp for any colonial man, personal care much too meticulous for one as well. He had a sharp jaw line, high cheekbones, a strong nose, and his dark brows made his steel eyes shine as if they were made of polished metal. _Rather handsome_ , she finally decided, _and much too dangerous for someone as skilled as her to ever take on in a fight._

Eyeing the many weapons he carried, she wondered if perhaps he were apart of an elite group of soldiers, but she’d never heard of redcoats like that. The man’s foot shifted in a light tap, and she looked up, meeting his steely gaze—turns out all the time she’d been observing him, _he’d_ been doing the same. Her cheeks warmed and she glanced the other way, wondering just how much he’d managed to size her up in mere moments they’d stared. “Well, I wonder if you’ve saved room for dessert?” Their attention was immediately drawn in and she couldn’t help but laugh. “We’ve cakes, cookies, pies, any and all kinds you could want.”

The men cheered around the table and Thomas leaned over, wrapping his arm back around her, though in his drunken haze, he slipped it under her rear, making her go statue like. “Say—how much—for _your_ —dessert?” Most of the men laughed at that, but Shay and Haytham, who both wore looks of general disgust.

(Y/N) wanted to laugh, but that thread had finally snapped and she grabbed hold of his hand and yanked it off her body, shoving him sideways in his seat; he collided with Charles who was sitting next to him, and before he could say anything, she was standing over him with a glower. “Listen and listen well, _you fuck_.” Her sudden use of an obscenity sobered everyone at the table. “I have spent the last three hours being sexually harassed by you and _I’m done_. I doubt a _stupid bastard_ like _you_ has ever heard of the word ‘ _consent’_ , so allow me to explain.”

Thomas’s mouth opened and she raised a hand. “ _You say anything, and I’ll bash every one of your fucking teeth out and make you eat them one by one_.” His mouth snapped shut and she said, “Consent is when someone gives you their express approval to touch them. Since you got here, you haven’t requested my consent to touch or speak to me in such a way. Allow me to tell you exactly what I think about it.”

She gripped the back of his chair and got in his face. “If you put your hands on me again, if you speak to me again, if you even _look_ at me again.” Her eyes narrowed dangerously, and her voice became a withering hiss. “ _I will claw your fucking eyes out of your head and shove them down your goddamn throat. And while you’re choking to death at my feet, the last thing you’ll see and hear will be the sound of my laughter. Do you understand_?”

He could barely form a thought to phrase back, but he managed a light threat. “Murder’s illegal.”

(Y/N) barked a laugh that sent shivers up their spines, then she sneered, “ _You’re not the first man I’ve killed. You won’t be the last_.” A grin crossed her lips, and Thomas thought he was staring at the mouth of a lioness. “ _But I would love nothing more than to add you to that list. Would you like tha_ t?” Thomas shook his head rapidly. “ _Coward_.” She spat and stood straight.

For a moment she simply glared at the man, then a mask fell across her face and she turned to the rest of them. “So, shall I take dessert orders then?” When no one spoke, she smiled. “Then I’ll go get your checks. Please excuse me.”

***

As the group stumbled through the tavern, they seemed to avoid the hostess’s eyes, still terrified about her threats. (Y/N) saw them off with a smile, and when Haytham came up to her, she regarded him with a polite gaze, but one that held resentment and suspicion. “Did you enjoy your evening sir? I hope you’ll come back to visit.” Her smile brightened. “We enjoy _high-class_ company.”

Haytham huffed through his nose and stared at her. “I apologize for Thomas’s behavior.”

Her smile dropped and that rage began to slither out. “If he ends up missing, _don’t_ come here.”

He cocked an eyebrow, but his eyes held humor. “Because you wouldn’t have anything to do with it?”

(Y/N) leaned forward and hissed, “ _Because I’ll be halfway across the colonies by the time the authorities get here to arrest me_.”

“You’re fairly confident to speak of killing a man so openly.”

She scoffed. “Oh please, anyone I’ve ever killed had it coming.”

“ _Had it coming_?” he echoed, steely gaze narrowed with interest.

“They did.” (Y/N) averted her gaze to the window and Haytham watched as she seemed to recount the past; her voice turned into a mumble, almost apathetic, like she expected what had come before. “Most of them escaped justice because their money lined court pockets.”

“And you ensured the victims had justice, then?” It wasn’t much of a question, more rhetorical than inquisitive.

She looked at him with heavy stare and as if her mouth were a gun, she was spitting words like rapid-fire bullets. “Who is to be held accountable when the justice system is found corrupt? Who brings them to justice when they fail those they’re supposed to protect? Who stands up for the people when no one stands for them?” (Y/N) thrust a finger into his chest. “Who protects the women and children from the ones who are supposed to be their protectors? Who protects the innocent from those who would strip it from their very souls?” Her jaw clenched. “If not them, then who? _If we don’t…then who will_?”

Haytham simply gazed at her and she pulled her hand away. “I’m not asking you to understand, but don’t write me off as some _crazy murderess_. Any life I’ve ever taken has been an evil one, dark and corrupted. _And I ensured their victim never had to live another day in pure terror._ ” She gestured to the door. “You should leave. Your group has been waiting for some time.”

He didn’t move, but murmured, “If I were to offer you a job…to eliminate evil people…would you take it?”

She met his gaze. “ _Only if I you keep the one man as far away from me as you can get him_.” A smirk crossed her lips. “ _Or I’ll kill him_.”


	2. When I Play My Cards, I Keep Them Close To My Chest

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It hasn't even been a week since they met and already she's found herself in the company of more people then she's ever wanted to be around. It's uncomfortable to say the least, but not as much as the Grandmaster's continual digging into her life. He'll learn soon enough how venomous she can be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aye, we at chapter 2! Let's hope I actually follow through and write 3 tm! Enjoy! -Thorne

It hadn’t even taken the man a week to get her signed into the organization. _Temporary employment_ , they’d called it, but she was sure if she kept her nose clean for a few weeks, maybe a month, they’d call it _permanent_. She briefly remembered the whole history lesson on their organization, The Templars, against their archenemy, The Assassins. Both didn’t seem too particularly great in her opinion, and without warning, she’d uttered that both groups should join force and work together. No doubt that her quiet opinion had shocked the Grandmaster—and while he offered his own opinion, it was clear that he wasn’t too fond of joining forces with the enemy.

(Y/N) watched the scenery flash by in front of her through the window of the carriage as they traveled the countryside. The Grandmaster had wanted a personal appearance within the few days to record her name and such, but (Y/N) knew it was simply a fake. No, what he wanted was information—any he could pry from her fingers about her life and from anyone else who knew her. She couldn’t fight the smile that came across her lips, knowing that no matter how deep the man dug, there wasn’t going to be a scrap of evidence to find.

Her eyes darted upwards when she heard the carriage driver click his tongue to slow the horse. The carriage came to a stop and she opened the door, stepping onto the gravel. (Y/N) stared at the mansion in front of her with a satisfied expression.

“Rather fetching home is it not?” a voice murmured beside her.

She jerked and turned, seeing him standing there with an amused look; she scowled. “I do believe it’s a sign of arrogance to float your own boat, Grandmaster.”

Haytham chuckled and gestured for her to follow. “Perhaps. But you have to admit the mansion is nice.”

(Y/N) grunted. “It’s fine.” He glanced over his shoulder and she fought to not roll her eyes. “ _Sir_.”

He narrowed his eyes, pleased at her and turned back around. “There are a couple Templars here at the moment.” Before she could say it, he added, “Thomas has been relocated back to Boston.” He stopped at the doorway, ignoring the servant who opened the door. “I wouldn’t go back on our deal, (Y/N).”

She peered at him then tipped her head. “As you say.” Taking a moment to look around him, she asked, “Who is here?”

Haytham spun around and entered the mansion, her shutting the door behind him. “Shay and another Templar who serves in his command—a man named Christopher Gist.” He shot a glance over his shoulder. “You’ve already met Shay and I think you’ll like Gist. He’s a rather good-natured man.”

“If he’s not I’ll knock his teeth out.” (Y/N) retorted.

“Why is _knocking teeth out_ your go-to threat?”

She scoffed and placed her hands on her hips. “Oh, should I instead threaten to cut their cocks off instead, Grandmaster?”

Haytham inhaled deeply at her comment and let out a heavier sigh. “Well, you’re usually planning on killing them, so what’s the harm?”

(Y/N) glared at him, but kept silent, following him into the study. The two Templars rose at his entrance and Shay smiled her way. “Ah, lass, good to see you again.” He held his hand out for her to shake, but she merely stared at it.

Sensing her discomfort, he started to pull his hand back, but she grabbed it suddenly and gave it a firm squeeze and shake, smirking at his wince. “Good to see you again as well, Shay.” She let go of his hand and held it out to the other Templar. “You must be Gist.”

He took her hand and shook it heartily. “I am! Shay talked about you, Miss (Y/N)! Said you made _quite an impression_ at dinner the other night!”

She huffed humorlessly. “Wasn’t trying to impress anyone.” He smiled awkwardly. “But thanks anyway.” A natural smile crossed his face once more and she turned to Haytham. “So, what are the three of us doing together?”

“ _Patience_.” He chastised lightly. “There’s a process to these things.”

“ _Things_?” she echoed. “I wasn’t aware of a process I was going through other than a temporary watch.”

“I just wish to see if you’re in good health.” Haytham waved a hand and an older gentleman stepped into the room. “This is Alexander.” The man bowed lightly to her and she did the same, not wanting to be rude. “He is my personal doctor. I would like you to give him permission to do a checkup just to see how your health is doing.”

“ _Permission denied_.” She’d said it so suddenly that no one reacted at first.

“Excuse me?” Haytham’s voice sounded rather shocked.

(Y/N) crossed her arms over her chest. “You want my permission? Well you can’t have it. I’ll see a female doctor only.”

“There aren’t exactly many of those around, lass.” Shay muttered and she turned on him.

“Then I guess I’m not being checked out, am I?” She looked at Haytham. “Either you find me a woman who is skilled in physicals or you’ll take my word for how my health is. There are no alternatives that can be decided in this. Sir.”

He regarded her a moment. “You’re sure I can’t change your mind?”

(Y/N) narrowed her gaze. “ _There’s not a man alive who could make me_.”

They stared one another down and it seemed as though everyone was sweating from the fear until Haytham stood straight and looked at the doctor. “Alexander, I apologize, but I fear your services won’t be needed.”

The man simply tipped his head then glanced at her. “Without a closer examination, she looks to be in perfect health as it is.” He smiled at (Y/N) before taking his leave.

She let out a sigh of relief and Shay snorted. “So, it’s not that you don’t want to be examined, you don’t like doctors?” He nudged her. “ _Afraid of ‘em_?”

(Y/N) glared at him. “ _I’m_ _not_ _afraid_ of doctors. I just didn’t want to be examined like an experimental rat.”

“ _Pfft_ , he’s a doctor not a scientist. I don’t think he was plannin’ on pokin’ and proddin’ ya lass.”

She ignored him, taking a seat in one of the chairs. “Can’t be too careful.” She looked at Haytham. “What else is on your secret agenda for me?”

Haytham chuckled and took a seat, watching the others take theirs as well. “(Y/N), my agenda is _hardly_ a secret.” He ignored her quip of _‘liar’_ and continued. “But since you’ve rejected a physical, there’s a _tiny_ mess-up in our schedule now.”

“And that is?”

He met her gaze, serious as death. “I’d wanted Alexander’s approval to test your defensive skills. I didn’t want to try sparring and you pass out on me.”

(Y/N) waved a hand. “I’m in perfect condition to fight.” He opened his mouth, but she cut him off. “Look, I get that part of your job is to make sure that everyone is in fighting shape but do yourself an early favor and _stop worrying about me_.” He cocked an eyebrow, a well-hidden surprise marking his features. “ _I don’t want nor need your worry_.” She stood up. “ _So save it for someone who matters._ ” (Y/N) motioned to the door. “Shall we make way to the training room, then?” She didn’t wait for approval nor refusal, simply twisting on her heel to leave the study.

The three men sat in a silence for a moment, then Gist said, “Well, I feel that Miss (Y/N) is going to be a _splendid_ _addition_ to the bunch!” He elbowed Shay. “Don’t you agree, Shay?”

The Irishman snorted and rose from his seat. “Jesus, if she doesn’t somehow _scald_ _us all to death_ with her words first.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “ _Shit_ , _I got first degree just from her glare_.” Gist chuckled, and Shay couldn’t help but look to the Grandmaster who was peering at the doorway she’d exited. “Master Haytham? Is everything alright?”

The Grandmaster shifted his gaze and offered a smile, rising from his seat. “I’m fine, Shay. Simply thinking.”

“Care to share?”

“She’s trying to drive wedges between herself and everyone.”

“What for?” Gist inquired aloud.

Shay shrugged. “ _Maybe she just hates men_?”

Haytham hummed and shook his head. “No…I don’t think that’s it. If it were, she wouldn’t have agreed to work with us.”

“Then what could it be?”

Before either of the two Templars could answer, a voice called, “ _Familiarity breeds contempt_.” Their eyes shifted sharply to the doorway and they winced at (Y/N)’s harsh glare. “ _I’m already more familiar with the three of you than I like to be with anyone. Don’t make friends and we’ll be fine_.” She tipped her head to the living room. “ _Move your asses, please. I have other things to do today and spending my time in the ass-end of nowhere Virginia isn’t it_.” Once again, (Y/N) disappeared.

Shay huffed. “ _Jesus, she’s sneaky_.” His face pinched much like a child’s after tasting a lemon. “ _And_ _mean_.” He looked at Haytham. “ _She’s mean_.”

Haytham sighed. “ _What are you, ten years old_?”

“ _Eleven, thank you very much_.” Came Shay’s smart remark.

***

“You do understand the rules of engagement, right lass?”

She ignored Shay’s question and pulled a saber from the training case. Tossing the scabbard aside, she raised it defensively and simply waited for him.

He sighed and pulled his own blade. “As you wish.”

They circled one another like buzzards over a cadaver, eyes narrowed on any sudden movements either would take. (Y/N) stepped softly, right leg over her left, and Shay realized that as she made a half-circle, she stopped and went the other way, left over right. His brows furrowed and his lips mouthed, _‘What are you doing?’_ but before he could even voice, she surged forward, sword coming down in a wide arc.

He side-stepped, but she followed, twisting her wrist to send it outwards. Shay raised his sword by his arm, narrowly dodging her sweep before shoving her off. (Y/N) went back a few feet and returned to her stepping. This time, he voiced it. “What are you doing?” He’d never seen such a step pattern before, and she obviously didn’t want to say. She twirled the sword in her grip and held a hand out, motioning for him to come her way. Shay scoffed.

He hurried forward and started with the same move she did, but she didn’t move, using the momentum of his sword to slide it off with hers. With his away, she aimed for his neck and in a brief moment, he thought he was done for when she gasped and dropped the blade like it’d burned her alive.

Shay reacted like anyone would, throwing his sword to the side to immediately help her. “Are you alright, lass?! What hurts?! What—” His words were cut short when she suddenly grabbed the front of his harness and pulled him forward. Unsuspecting of it, Shay jerked forward, and he was met with a blade to his throat. His coffee eyes were wide with disbelief, jaw dropped from the shock, and yet (Y/N)’s face held a rigid calm.

“Yield.” She commanded and even as he thought about grabbing for his dirk, she pressed the dagger into his skin. “ _Do it, I dare you_.”

They stared at each other, then he said, “ _I give_.”

(Y/N) shoved him away and stashed her dagger back into the flap inside her jacket. She silently picked up the sword and its scabbard, sheathing the blade before putting it on the rack once more.

She turned and walked up to Haytham, not a sign of emotion on her face, least of all victory. “I suspect that was good enough for you?”

Haytham would never claim to be an easily readable man—far from it in fact. He could count on two hands the number of times he’d been transparent to someone else. But the truth of the matter was that for the first time in a while, Haytham was stunned silent. Honest to God, stunned silent, and all it entailed. He blinked at her. “I— _who_ taught you to fight?” he managed.

She placed her hands on her hips. “ _Doesn’t matter, they’re dead. **Was that good enough for your acceptance**_?” (Y/N) was more insistent this time, like she was itching to get away from guards she’d pickpocketed.

He regained himself and pulled his lips in a satisfied smile. “It would appear so.”

“It would appear that she _cheated_.” Shay grumbled behind her.

(Y/N) tossed a glance over her shoulder. “I don’t fight to gain honor. I fight to win.” She spun around and headed for the door. “And you know _who_ _wins_?” She stopped beside Shay, shoulder to shoulder with him and whispered, “ _The cheaters_.” (Y/N) started her way again. “Take me back to The Ethereal Crew Tavern, Grandmaster. I’ve a shift to work at.”

The door slammed behind her, and before any of them could speak, Shay glowered at Haytham and said, “You’re never going to get _anything_ out of her.” He scowled. “ _God, she’s so **mean**_!”


	3. Never Fall In Love, Everybody Loses Their Bet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After a meeting is disturbed by a woman coming to find her, Haytham gains a closer look at the rage that hides under her skin and behind her eyes. So what happens when he sees the outcome of that rage? Who lives? Who dies?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please be advised there is mentioning of physical and sexual assault in this chapter. It's not super graphic, but a warning should still be in place for those who find it triggering. Please don't read if assault makes you uncomfortable to read. -Thorne

*****Set One Year After Part Two*****

The usual grouping of Templars gathered in the backroom of The Ethereal Crew Tavern, that grouping being Haytham, Shay, Gist, (Y/N) and a few others she didn’t care to name. Most of them had arrived on their own, but she and Haytham had taken the liberty of getting a carriage together. Rather scandalous given that neither were married nor courting the other, but personally, she could care less about social etiquette governed by the elite who had their heads shoved up their asses.

She kept herself guarded, one leg crossed over the other, her fingers curled around the handle of the dagger in her jacket. Haytham probably knew, but he’d yet to let her know, absentmindedly flipping through the pages of his journal. It drove her up the wall how he seemed to place enough trust in (Y/N) to actually sit in a carriage with her, alone—she hated the feeling. Hated that he cared enough. Sometimes she’d wished she’d never accepted his offer to join the Templars. It was too late for regrets though as through a flurry of group missions and her own personal ones, she’d managed to climb the ladder of success within the Templars, coming to rest just below Lee. No doubt (Y/N) had certainly upset the chain of command, especially with pushing half the men of the group from their positions to claim them as her own, and as much as she hated it, she had to acknowledge that it gave her a sick sense of pride to take them down a few pegs— _fragility of male pride_ , she decided.

“Is something on your mind, (Y/N)?”

She looked up from her boot laces and to him, though he’d yet to take his eyes off the pages. “Nothing that would make you happy, Grandmaster.”

Haytham chuckled and snapped the journal shut before meeting her eyes. “You’re more than welcome to call me Haytham when we’re not with the rest of the Order.”

(Y/N) cocked an eyebrow and deadpanned, “Honestly, I’d rather stab myself in the thigh… _twice_ …with a _dull knife_ …but that’s just my personal opinion.”

He let out a snort and stowed the notebook in his jacket before regarding her. “Why are you so adamant to keep people from being friendly with you?”

“Why are you so nosey about my adamancy?” she retorted.

“I’m simply curious.” His steel eyes narrowed. “Is that so _wrong_?”

“ _Unhealthy_ , would be the better word.” (Y/N) shot back, but on a rare whim, she revealed, “ _I don’t trust you_.”

Haytham evidently hadn’t expected that because his eyes widened ever so slightly. “Truly? Even though we’ve served together for a full year?”

She huffed and turned her gaze to the window. “Don’t take it personally, sir, _I don’t trust_ _anyone_.”

“Then what do you trust in?” he inquired.

“ _Myself_.” (Y/N) murmured with a deep breath.

“And when you can’t trust in that?”

She eyed him from the corners of her eyes. “ _Psychological warfare isn’t going to work on me, sir. Been there, done that. I’ve learned my lesson_.”

Haytham smirked and she instantly cursed herself at her carelessness. “So _that’s_ your reason. You won’t allow yourself to be taken advantage of again by someone.”

(Y/N) couldn’t help but glower at him and if looks could kill, he’d have been dead and buried. “ _You smug bastard_.” He barked a laugh but didn’t respond, and the carriage began to slow.

They climbed out, her first, still fuming, Haytham following in suit. She opened the door and walked inside, leaving him, but he wasn’t upset, far from it. By the time he got to the backroom, (Y/N) had already poured drinks and taken her seat between his and Shay’s, a glare still in her eye.

They stood at his entry and when he sat, they did as well. “Thank you for readying the drinks, (Y/N).” he acknowledged, and her grunt of acceptance served as a reply. He looked to the others. “We’ve started with more practical pursuits of taking over the colonies.” Haytham gestured to Shay. “With Shay helping to claim New York, we’ve control over two major cities and ports of the Americas.”

Shay tipped his head and took a sip of his beer.

Haytham looked to (Y/N). “You’ve also been helpful to help claim the city too, taking out public menaces during the nights. It’s kept the people safe.” She looked in the other direction, feeling the warmth rise on her cheeks at the praise. “But I’d like to do more.” He waved a hand and Charles unraveled a map along the table and everyone leaned forward in their seats to gain a look. “We’ve most of the New England and Middle Colony territories, but I want to focus our attention to the South. Gaining leverage would give us control of the colonies and we can turn them any way we wish.”

Shay raised a hand and the Grandmaster nodded at him. “Ports in North and South Carolina and Georgia could be decent routes to start with. If at least to get us a feeling of the locations.”

Haytham tipped his head in agreement, then looked to (Y/N) who was busy dragging her eyes up and down the map. “Have you any ideas, (Y/N)?”

She hummed. “I’d start with negotiations with Native tribes or go to Florida and start there.”

Before anyone could ask, Charles snorted. “Why go to the natives for help? Do you doubt that we can’t do it ourselves?” His voice was haughty, full of arrogance, and it pissed her off.

(Y/N) met his gaze and he audibly swallowed from the sheer anger in it. “Perhaps because they’re the ones who could help us further our goals farther than we could on our own considering the fact that they’ve lived in the Americas long before colonial intervention? Perhaps because this is their land we’re talking about controlling? Perhaps because colonists like _you_ have your head shoved so far up your ass that asking for help from actual natives of the land is considered insane? Perhaps because you’re a stupid son of a bitch who thinks that that colonials are somehow placed high above natives because we’re ‘civilized’ solely based on the fact that we live in brick houses and speak the King’s English—which by the way isn’t even a universal language because more countries speak a multitude of other languages besides English—Spanish and French being two examples.” She leaned forward. “Have I got the point across or should I keep offering rhetoric about how idiotic your complaints are until it goes through your thick skull?”

Charles face had turned at least six shades of red, each darker than the last and he fumbled for an answer but all he could sputter was nonsense. (Y/N) glanced at Shay beside her who’d long since put his face in his arms to keep from laughing hysterically. Only the shake of his shoulders told her, and she looked to Haytham. “Start negotiations for help with the Cherokee and the Creek or go to Saint Augustine and work up. That’s where I’d start.”

Haytham merely wore a smile as he nodded. “Shay would you mind traveling down to Saint Augustine within the month?” The Irishman didn’t even raise his head, simply waving a hand in response. “Well then, we’ll start with finding someone who speaks the Cherokee and Cree—”

His words were cut off by the door slamming into the wall, and immediately everyone grabbed either a gun or a sword to defend themselves with when they caught sight of a disheveled woman.

(Y/N) let go of her dagger and stood from her seat, ignoring how it toppled over behind her. “Priscilla?” The woman ran over to her and upon closer inspection, she took in the sight of the torn dress and the blood and bruises along her skin. A breath of shock left her. “ _What happened to you_?”

Priscilla practically burst into tears and as if her strength suddenly failed, her knees gave out beneath her. (Y/N) caught her before she hit the ground. “(Y/N)!” she cried.

The Templar yanked her gloves off and gently cradled the woman’s face in her hands. Bruises littered her amber skin, and (Y/N) saw handprints around her throat and arms. Anger welled inside her and she didn’t need to lift the woman’s dress to know what had happened. She opted for, “ _Who did this to you_?”

The woman sobbed and shook her head. “He’ll kill me.”

(Y/N) removed her jacket and laid it around Priscilla’s shoulders, allowing her some decency in the presence of men. “Priscilla… _give me his name_.”

“I can’t,” she whimpered, raising a hand to wipe her face. “He told me he’d kill my family.”

She cradled the woman’s face once more. “Where is your family now?”

“At home.”

(Y/N) looked at Shay. “Shay.” Her voice was calm, quiet, and it made his blood run cold. “Just North-East of the gang headquarters in East Village there is a small home that stands on its own. You’ll recognize it by the blue painted door. I need you to go and collect the woman and young boy that live there and bring them back down here.” He didn’t move for a moment and she narrowed her eyes. “ _Now, Shay_.” He rose and motioned for Gist to do the same, and the two of them disappeared from the backroom.

She drew her eyes back to Priscilla. “Go to my room and look in the chest at the foot of my bed.” (Y/N) dipped so she could catch her eyes. “You remember the code?”

“I do,” the woman whispered.

(Y/N) nodded. “In the right corner there’s a little bundle of packages. Find the one labeled Queen Anne’s Lace. Open it and chew a handful up and wash it down with water.” She helped the woman to her feet. “I’ll tell Anita to draw a bath for you when I leave.”

“Where are you—”

“ _Give me his name, Priscilla_.”

The woman met (Y/N)’s gaze and her voice booked no room for any arguments this time. “It’s…it’s Lord Josiah.”

“The one you’ve been providing maid services to for the last few weeks?”

Priscilla nodded, fresh tears springing to her eyes. “I’ve been trying to avoid his advances but I wasn’t paying attention and he—and he—” she burst into tears once more and (Y/N) raised a hand to her own mouth clenching her jaw so tightly it began to hurt. “I should’ve listened to them!” She cried.

After a moment she took a deep breath and rested her hands on Priscilla’s shoulders. “ _Go to my room and lock the door. Don’t open it unless it’s me or Anita, do you understand_?” She nodded. “Come on, I’ll walk with you.” (Y/N) gently guided her towards the door and out of the backroom. They came across the stairs when a younger woman was coming down the stairs. “Anita, there you are.”

She looked between them but didn’t say anything, an unspoken conversation that she simply nodded to. (Y/N) tipped her head to Priscilla. “Get her a bath ready. Hottest water you can get.” Anita helped Priscilla up the stairs and in an ungodly rage, (Y/N) headed for the doors of the tavern.

*******

She sat in the brush just outside the manor of Josiah Galbraith, silently watching the armed Regulars patrol the perimeter. So far, she’d counted two pairs of Redcoats go around, telling her that they were going clockwise and counter to keep anyone out. The first pair appeared from the opposite side and she waited until they got to the next corner to begin a mental timer. A minute and a half later, the second patrol appeared and as they reached the corner, she readied herself when a hand snapped on her shoulder and pulled her back.

(Y/N) swallowed her own scream of fear, opting to spin around and immediately throw a curled fist to whoever had grabbed her. They let out a grunt as her hand collided with their jaw and they yanked her harder, toppling her off balance. She landed on the ground and before she could move again, they had her hands pinned to the ground.

She started to struggle when they hissed, “ _(Y/N)! It’s me_!”

Focusing on their features with only the light of the moon, they soon became clear and she seethed, “ _Haytham, what the fuck are you doing here_?!”

He released her and pointed to the opening at the brush. “ _Keeping you from getting shot by a guard on the rooftop_!”

(Y/N)’s brows furrowed and looked out. Sure enough, a lone guard appeared from the backside of the mansion, a musket in his hands, occasionally looking around. She let out a breath she didn’t know she’d been holding.

“ _If you’re going to get at Josiah, you need to manage to not get shot trying to get in_.” Haytham advised. “ _Let me help you_.”

She turned on him. “ _I don’t need your help. Get out of here_.”

“ _You need my help, (Y/N). Josiah has more training than you realize. You won’t stand a chance against him_.”

(Y/N) cocked an eyebrow. “ _You know this how_?”

Haytham let out a sigh, steel eyes watching the patrolling pair pass. “ _He used to be a Templar before I got here_.”

It did little to soothe her rage, but she managed, “ _He’s not anymore_?”

He shook his head. “ _The Templars of the colonies before I arrived had him removed. There wasn’t any reason I could find_.” He met her eyes. “ _I know this is something you have to do but let me help you_.”

(Y/N) stared him down for a minute then nodded, and before he could breathe a sigh of relief, she had a dagger to his neck. “ _If you do anything to compromise the minute trust, I am placing in you right now, I will slit your throat. Do you understand me_?”

Haytham’s response was solemn, but it was trustworthy. “ _I understand_.”

She pulled away. “ _You help me take him down, but I’m delivering the final blow_.”

“ _Understood as well_.”

They sat next to one another in the brush and she quietly explained, “ _There’s two patrols that go around the manor. When this one hits the opposite corner, it takes a minute and a half for the next couple to show up_.”

Haytham nodded, eyeing the guards passing by them then up to the top. “ _There’s only one up top, but he goes back and forth every thirty seconds.” He looked down the street. “I’ll see about climbing the walls to take him out. When I come over the side, then you can move forward_.”

(Y/N) didn’t necessarily like the idea of being told to wait, but he had a point and she nodded. “ _Hurry then, the next couple will appear in a minute_.”

He was off at that, occasionally glancing up at the rooftop to make sure he was undiscovered. She watched as he disappeared around the side and when the lone gunman appeared, so did Haytham. He covered the man’s mouth to prevent any sound, then he fell over the side. When he hit the ground, (Y/N) couldn’t help but wince at whatever bones he’d broken, but he didn’t get up, and that was the important thing.

She sprinted to the door and tried the doorknob, but when it clicked, she grunted and pulled the lockpick from her jacket. Softly she twisted the pick until it stayed, then she jiggled the lock a few times. _Almost there._ She thought. _C’mon, hurry it up._ _Just a little mo—_

“Hey! What do you think you’re doing!”

The sudden shout from behind followed by the bayonet pressed up against her backside made her blood run cold and she sucked in a breath, quickly stowing the lockpick in her sleeve. (Y/N) raised her hands beside her head and slowly turned, coming face to face with the pair of redcoats.

She smiled. “I was trying the door, but it was locked, so I was knocking.”

One of the guards sneered. “That’s not what it looked like to me.”

“And what did it look like?”

“Like you were pickin’ the lock.”

(Y/N) internally winced but kept a smile on her face. “ _Pfft_ , I would _never_ break and enter. That’s illegal!” _C’mon Haytham, where are you?_ She wiggled her fingers. “It just looked like I was picking the lock, but I promise I wasn’t.”

“Well if you weren’t pickin’ the lock,” the other guard sneered, “then what are you doing here?”

She met their gazes. “I’m the replacement for Priscilla.”

“For whom?

Her eyes narrowed and she explained, “Priscilla. The woman that you two probably laughed at when she stumbled from the front door with a torn dress, bruised and beaten.” Their faces fell at her words and she saw Haytham sneaking up behind them. “ _The woman that you’ll die for_.” Before they could react to her promise, they went down, Haytham’s hands at the back of their necks.

He stood straight and slung the excess blood from his hands before retracting the blades into his sleeves. He met her gaze and she said, “ _I don’t know where you and Shay got those, but I want some_.”

Haytham chuckled and nodded towards the door. “Break the lock while I hide the bodies in the brush. The second patrol will notice two dead bodies.” (Y/N) didn’t wait to be told twice, immediately spinning on her heel to pick the lock once more. It broke with a click and she pushed it open to slip inside, Haytham behind her.

They stood in the entrance and she whispered, “Do you think there are more guards inside?”

He shook his head. “It’s possible but not likely. He’s probably paying for perimeter check only.”

She hummed. “Unfortunate for him.” He glanced at her. “But _very_ fortunate for us.” (Y/N) nodded to the stairs. “His room is probably upstairs.”

As they made their way to the staircase a door opened and a servant came out, freezing as they spotted the two. Haytham pulled his flintlock out and pointed it at him. “ _If you want to live, go back inside and stay quiet. You are not our target_.”

The servant blinked but turned right around and walked back into the room. (Y/N) couldn’t help but snort. “And you say I’m threatening to people.”

Haytham stowed the pistol and climbed the staircase, keeping close to the wall. “You are. But I only threaten people when I need to get the point across.”

The lock sounded from the door the servant had gone through and she quipped, “I guess he got the point.”

He hummed. “I’ve heard Josiah is a bastard to his staff.” He glanced back at her. “From he did to your friend, that’s proven true. I doubt any of the servants will weep at his passing.”

“ _Murder_.” (Y/N) corrected, passing in front of him as they reached the top. “ _At his murder_.” He said nothing, and with a quick glance down the hall, Haytham’s probability had proven true, there wasn’t a guard in sight.

They crept down the hallway to the door at the end and took either side. She looked at him as she held the doorknob and he pulled out his flintlock and cocked it, nodding at her. (Y/N) took a deep breath and opened the door with as much silence as it would’ve allowed; Haytham went in first, her following and they were shocked to find Josiah waiting for them.

He looked up from the foot of the bed, ignoring Haytham outright to stare at (Y/N). “I knew you were going to come,” he said. “I knew when she threatened me with your name you would.”

“You know _nothing_ of my name.” She hissed.

A chuckle passed his lips. “I know more than you think.” His eyes drifted to Haytham. “You’re the new Grandmaster for the Order, aren’t you?”

“I am.” Haytham responded, flintlock still poised and ready. “You’re lucky you left before I came, else I’d’ve killed you much earlier.”

“I’ve no doubt.” He stood and held out two sabers. He tossed one to (Y/N) who caught it and then he unsheathed the blade and pointed it at her. “A duel, then.”

She took a step forward, ignoring Haytham’s voice of complaint and pulled the sword from its scabbard. “You want to fight me.” Her eyes narrowed, yet she got in a defensive position. “ _Why_?”

Josiah raised his blade like a fencer, one hand behind his back. “Engaging in duels is honorable practice.”

(Y/N) scowled. “There’s nothing you could ever do that would make you honorable again, you sick bastard.”

“And yet, you still engage in a duel.”

“So that I can cut your heart out of your chest!” She leaped forward and swung the sword at him with enough force that he grunted and faltered back. (Y/N) didn’t let up, strike after strike, she sent him, and with each blot of crimson appearing on his pristine white shirt, she knew her blows were landing.

For some odd reason, he didn’t seem to be fighting back and while it was only a minor concern in her mind, it soon became a major one. She made the mistake of leaving herself open when he parried her blade, and she paid the price when his fist collided with her stomach, taking the air with it.

(Y/N) gagged and felt the blade go slack in her grip but it was all the time he needed to yank the sword away and spin her around, one hand coming around to lock at her throat, the other pointing the sword at Haytham, who wore a stern look, but she could see the fear bleeding in his eyes.

Josiah chuckled in her ear and it made her stomach churn. “ _Anger makes you predictable dear_.” She struggled against him, but the hand at her throat tightened, cutting off her air and she gasped. “You think I didn’t know you were outside, learning the guard patterns?” (Y/N) reached for his hand and pulled, trying to gain air. “I let her leave alive because I knew you’d come after me.”

“ _Why_?” she gasped as best she could.

“Why? Because you’ve been a thorn in the elite’s side for years.” He shifted the hand that held the sword and flipped open her jacket, pulling the dagger out. Josiah took a few steps back, taking her with him, and Haytham followed. He put the dagger against her side and hissed in her ear, “You stick your nose where it doesn’t belong and mess up plans left and right. All in the name of vigilantism. And what good has it gotten you? Dead.”

(Y/N) met Haytham’s eyes and she nodded at him. She swallowed and muttered, “ _You’ll die before I do, you sick fuck_.” Her elbow jerked backwards into his gut and he cried out in pain, letting her go. She reached out. “Haytham!”

Her fingertips brushed the barrel of the flintlock, but she closed them around it, pulling the gun to her. She found the handle and spun on Josiah. With how close they were, there was no space to flee and she pulled the trigger, watching as he stumbled backwards to the wall, a circle of crimson blooming larger with each second.

He slid down the wall and chuckled, but it dissolved into a cough. “My death—wins you nothing.” (Y/N) stared at him and grabbed the handle of her dagger, yanking it from where he’d embedded it in her waist. Besides a grunt, she made no sound of pain. “I might die—but my legacy will still—stand.”

She wiped the blood of the dagger and sheathed it, remarking, “ _No it won’t_.” He met her eyes, fuzzy and growing dark. “ _I’ll run every trace of your name into the fucking ground. When I’m done, there won’t be a soul alive who’ll remember you. And if they do_ ,” (Y/N) knelt down and whispered, “ _It’ll be because your crimes will outweigh it all_.” He sucked in a breath and with a final gurgle, he went still.

She stood and pulled her jacket around her, stealthily pressing onto her wound to keep pressure. “We’re done here.” She handed Haytham his flintlock. “We should leave before the other patrol comes.”

Haytham grabbed her arm. “Are you alright?”

(Y/N) met his gaze. “ _No_.” Pulling from him she made her way to the door. “ _No, I’m not_.”

*******

It was well past closing time when they got back to the tavern and (Y/N)’s wound felt like it was on fire, and she herself could barely stand on her own feet. Still, she pushed on, knowing she needed to at least see Priscilla and her family before she took care of it.

Stepping inside, she was greeted by Priscilla’s screech of relief and a bear hug from the woman. “You’re okay!”

(Y/N) weakly patted her arm. “Yeah…I’m good.”

The girl stepped away and looked at her, eyes full of concern. “(Y/N), are you alright? You look ill.”

Haytham appeared by her side and peered at her. “She’s right. You look like you’re going to pass out.”

She shook her head and swallowed the sickness climbing her esophagus. “I’m fine. I’m just tired and need some rest.” She looked at Priscilla. “Since you and your family are here, take a guest room and get some sleep. We’ll talk about moving you tomorrow.”

(Y/N) ignored their concerns as she made way to the stairs and she’d barely climbed two of them when she collapsed. Hands grasped her shoulders and while she wanted to struggle, she couldn’t find the energy to do so.

She vaguely felt them turn her over and she groaned as her back hit the staircase. Shay and Haytham appeared in her vision, their faces contorted with apprehension. Haytham’s lips were moving but nothing was coming out that she could understand, and she felt cool air rise under her shirt, telling her that someone had opened her jacket. Haytham looked down and back at her, eyes wide.

Someone’s hand touched the edge of her tunic and with a renewed burst of energy, she gripped their hand tightly and squeezed with all the strength she had left. “ _Don’t take—my clothes off_.” She hissed.

Haytham’s hand touched her cheek and with a slow intake of breath, her head lolled backwards, consciousness fading from her.


	4. But Underneath, I Just Need To Forget

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A feverish sleep reminds her of her past, something she's tried to outrun for almost a decade. Who is going to remind her of what she gained after leaving it behind?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter goes into greater details of (Y/N)'s past. Be advised that it does include references of past assaults. -Thorne

She drifted. Weightless like a buoy on the sea, like a feather on the wind. It was comfortable, something she hadn’t felt in years. As if the burdens had finally left her shoulders. She almost felt like not leaving.

She cracked an eye open and stared at the sky above her, as blue as it’d ever been. _Strange._ She thought. _Last thing I remember is collapsing on the tavern steps._ And with the gentle roll of her head, she saw a woman in robes next to her.

The woman smiled, dark wine-colored lips parting to show pearly whites. “You’ve been asleep for a long time, (Y/N).” she murmured.

(Y/N) heaved a sigh. “Hello Na’ilah.” She looked away, glaring at the perfectly clear sky. “So that’s it then? I’m _finally_ dead?”

Na’ilah snorted and helped her sit up. “No, not yet.” She caught (Y/N)’s eyes. “You’re in that little space between here and there.”

“Great,” (Y/N) scoffed. “The _in-between_. As if I didn’t have anything better to do than spend time around here.”

“You’re rather upset for someone who isn’t bleeding to death anymore.”

“I’m not upset, Na’ilah. _I’m pissed_.” She grunted.

“ _At_?” Na’ilah encouraged, but (Y/N) kept silent, causing her to sigh. “You’ve always been terrible at expressing your feelings.”

That did the trick and (Y/N) glared at her. “I have not. I just don’t do it often.” She clambered to her feet and stared at the desert expanse. “Why the _hell_ is the in-between a _fucking_ _desert_?” She kicked at the sand. “It’s _hot_ and _sandy_ and _not fun_.”

Na’ilah snorted and rose to her feet as well. The cloak billowed around her. “ _Oh complain, complain_. Life’s better now than it was. You live in a nice tavern and get paid quite a big sum.”

“What? Have you been _spying_ on me through the clouds in heaven?”

“ _Something like that_.” Na’ilah took her by the hand and they began to walk across the sand.

“I hope you’re taking me somewhere that has shade, because if all this place is, is desert? _Yeah, I’ll just decide to die_.”

Na’ilah turned on her and smiled. “This place is a part of you, (Y/N). It can be anything you make it to be—you get to decide.”

(Y/N) eyed the older woman suspiciously then shut her eyes. In an instance, she felt the heat of the sun come off her and the smell of ale rise through her nose. She opened her eyes and saw the interior of _The Ethereal Crew Tavern_ before her.

“ _Odd choice_ , _given that you hate alcoholic beverages_.” Na’ilah commented. “Though this place is considered _safe_ to you, so it fits.”

She pulled away and sat down in one of the booths, nodding at the seat across from her. (Y/N) slid into it and stared at her. She hadn’t changed. Bright green eyes full of mirth, a calm smile, and yet for a dead woman, she looked as though she hadn’t aged a day.

“I guess dying at thirty-seven does that to a woman.” She murmured.

(Y/N) recoiled with a glower. “ _Get out of my head_.”

“ _Then don’t think so loudly_.” Na’ilah countered and for a moment, they glared at each other, then burst into laughter.

When they calmed, the older woman waved a hand and a set of tea appeared. (Y/N) picked up one of the teacups and looked inside. “Kuwaiti tea?”

“Your favorite, as I recall.”

“Haven’t had in in a while.”

“You drank some last week.” Na’ilah laughed.

(Y/N)’s expression turned solemn and she stared into the golden tea. “ _Not yours, I haven’t_.” The older woman’s face dropped, and she looked at her. “Why are you here, Na’ilah?”

“Can’t I be here to visit my favorite apprentice?”

“ _You’re not real_.”

Na’ilah cocked a dark, elegant brow. “ _Oh_? Am I just a _figment_ of your imagination? A last _defense_ before your body finally shuts down?” She waited on (Y/N)’s answer.

“I don’t know,” (Y/N) muttered. “But I know you’re not the _real_ Na’ilah.”

“And _why_ am _I not_?”

She met the older woman’s eyes. “ _Because she’s dead_.”

Na’ilah smiled sadly. “Dead, yes. But never truly gone.”

(Y/N) huffed humorlessly. “Isn’t it the same thing?”

She took a sip of her tea, refined as always in her mannerisms. “You know as well as I that death isn’t the end. Merely a beginning.”

“And how long did that beginning take for you after you threw me into that boat? Days? Weeks? Years?” (Y/N)’s eyes were hard, yet so pained.

Na’ilah hummed. “You can stop holding that over yourself, (Y/N). My death _wasn’t_ your fault.”

“ _My escape was_.”

“That _I_ orchestrated. That _I_ put into motion.” She looked at her. “I helped you escape so that you would be _free_ , not so you could live your life repenting for it.” (Y/N) didn’t respond and she remarked, “ _Do you genuinely think I let him kill me? That my final moments were not my own doing_?”

(Y/N) met her gaze and saw a clarity in her eyes. “You killed yourself then?”

“I did.” Na’ilah answered. “Up on that hill we always saw through the window. The hill that touched the moon.” She tipped her head to the side. “ _I died on my own terms, (Y/N). Will you choose yours_?”

The tea tasted bitter in her mouth, despite the sugar in it. “I don’t feel free.”

“That’s because you view your freedom through a noose. You think of freedom as some one-shot deal where if you take the final step it’ll be your last.” Na’ilah took her hand. “That mark on your skin holds nothing. It’s merely a piece of the past. Let it go and focus on the future.”

(Y/N) felt a mirthless smile cross her lips. “That’s _easy_ for _you_ to say— _you’re dead_. I can’t take my clothes off without seeing his symbol branded on my abdomen.”

“ _Then get it removed_.” (Y/N) met Na’ilah’s eyes. “The only reason you haven’t is because you’re afraid that you’ll have nothing to hold onto if you do.”

“That’s not—”

“Then why didn’t you get it removed when you got to the colonies? Why didn’t you have someone burn it away? Why didn’t you have someone paint over it with tattoos? _Why didn’t you do something about it_?”

Na’ilah’s eyes held an expectance and (Y/N) threw her hands in the air. “ _I don’t fucking know! Okay! I don’t know!_ ” She dropped her arms and put her face in her hands. “ _I don’t know why I didn’t get rid of the brand_.”

“I think _you_ do.” Na’ilah encouraged. “I think you do every time you look in the mirror and remember your younger years.”

(Y/N) peered between her fingers and sighed. “It was the one thing I could always blame things on. The pain and hatred. After I escaped…I was afraid that if I got rid of it, I wouldn’t have anything to pour my rage into. _That I would forget why I do the things I do and am the way I am around others_.”

“And so, you keep it as a safety net. But also, a reminder to be cautious of those around you.”

“ _I don’t trust at all_.”

Na’ilah smiled. “I think you trust those _two_. _Especially the one_.”

(Y/N) grunted, knowing exactly who the woman was talking about. “ _Shay’s a pain in my ass and talks about how mean I am all the time and Haytham’s nosey as hell and thinks it’s amusing when I snap at him_.”

“ _But you trust them_.”

Figuring it better to agree than to fight, (Y/N) huffed. “Only a bit.”

“I think it’s _more_ than a bit.” Na’ilah quipped and she rolled her eyes.

They lapsed into a silence, quietly sipping their tea, then (Y/N) asked, “Is this what it’s like to live after what we went through? To distrust every hand that comes your way? To be a shell?” She met Na’ilah’s eyes. “I don’t even remember who I used to be when I was a child before living at the Viviani Residence.” She huffed. “I don’t even remember what it was like to be a child.”

“Do you know what I see you as now?”

(Y/N) laughed mirthlessly. “A cold-hearted bitch who keeps people at arms-length and kills rapists and murderers?”

Na’ilah didn’t laugh. “I see a young woman in her thirties who has suffered more pain and strife than any should ever have to. And instead of succumbing to all the trauma, she has used it as a means to save other women and children from ever having to suffer it too.” She took (Y/N)’s hand. “I see a young woman who is so afraid to trust people, _especially men_ , that she has drawn a line in the sand and keeps everyone away so that she doesn’t experience those pains ever again. I see a young woman who struggles everyday to express her feelings clearly yet keep them so hidden, so no one learns her past.”

She squeezed (Y/N)’s hand, watching tears slide down her cheeks. “I see a young woman who is so strong and so passionate in her way to help others.” Her other hand reached up and wiped the tears from (Y/N)’s face. “ _Most of all, I see the young woman I trained day in and day out for years and ultimately gave my life for so that she could find freedom. In helping others. In finding love. In finding peace_.”

Her image began to fade, and the feel of her hand became feather-light. (Y/N) grabbed her hands tight. “Don’t leave me alone, Na’ilah. Not again.”

Na’ilah smiled. “You have _never_ been alone. _I have always been with you_.” Barely a specter, she said, “ _You are not your past. Just as this world bends to your will, so does reality. No one else’s words can give your life definition. Only yours, (Y/N)._ ”

“Na’ilah,” she whispered, vision beginning to brighten.

“ _And in the end, you are what you make yourself to be, (Y/N)_.” She laughed, but it sounded like tinkling bells in (Y/N)’s ears. “ _What are you going to make yourself, (Y/N)_?”

*******

When she opened her eyes once more, she was met by the ceiling of the tavern she knew all too well. A heavy feeling set in her chest and she turned her head, catching sight of Haytham asleep in the chair beside the bed, arms curled across his chest. She snorted silently at how his chin dipped into his chest, quiet snores sounding from him. (Y/N) took a moment to observe him closer.

His hair was in disarray, unkempt strands had pulled from the usually tight ribbon, and he had dark circles under his eyes.

Her eyes drifted to the window and she saw dawn peeking through the window, telling her that she’d at least slept through the whole night, but if she was being realistic, she’d probably been out for more than a couple days. (Y/N)’s side ached with a fury and she gently flexed her fingers to get the blood flowing before she shifted her hand to her waist. The bandage around it felt clean and it was underneath her shirt, so at least they’d listened to her _delirious request_ to keep her clothed.

(Y/N)’s fingers trialed below her left breast to the mark branded into her skin. She traced the raised flesh, forming a _‘V’_ , a frown crossing her lips and she decided that when she could finally walk, she was going to cut if off or burn it away. Na’ilah was right—she used it as a reminder and she no longer needed it. (Y/N) inhaled deeply. _Maybe I’ll ask Shay where I can get a tattoo and I’ll get it covered. Maybe a rose? What about a sparrow? Because they fly and they’re free and oh my god that’s too cliché. How about a—_

“(Y/N)?”

She damn near jumped out of her skin at the sound of his voice, eyes darting to her side to see Haytham leaning over. He looked truly tired, like he hadn’t slept in years. She swallowed and pulled her hand from underneath her shirt. “Hey,” she murmured.

Haytham stood but took a moment to stretch and she couldn’t help but snort at how he groaned from the cracking of his joints. He turned to the desk and after a moment, appeared with a cup. “Here,” he said. “You’re probably thirsty.”

Now that he mentioned it, she was parched, and (Y/N) grunted as she forced herself to sit up, ignoring his concern. She held out her hand and he gave her the cup, watching as she downed it in one drink.

(Y/N) lowered the cup from her mouth. “Thank you.”

Haytham nodded, taking the cup back. “How do you feel?” he asked.

She met his gaze and smiled. “ _Like I got stabbed in the side then spent time in a feverish sleep_.” He huffed through his nose. “In all, _pretty good for what happened_.”

“ _Your little stunt almost killed you. You’ve been out for three days. You should’ve told me,_ ” he chastised and behind his eyes she could see a slight anger directed at her.

It almost made her roll her eyes, but she looked away. “ _I should’ve_.”

He almost sputtered but caught himself. “ _What did you just say_?” Haytham grinned. “ _Did you just agree with me about your personal condition_?” He reached over and felt her forehead. “ _Are you still feverish_?”

(Y/N) glared at him but didn’t pull away from his touch. “ _Don’t make me punch the shit out of you, Haytham_.”

His steel eyes met hers and he lowered his hand, gently caressing her cheek. “That’s the _second_ time you’ve used my name.”

The smile he wore made her heart race a bit and she pulled a glower. “ _I’m getting closer to punching you_.” He smiled and moved his hand. “Who saw to my wound?”

“I did.” Her eyes narrowed and he raised his hands in surrender. “Priscilla and her mother tended to it, but I helped them in the medical area.”

“Did you remove my clothing?” (Y/N) inquired.

“No. They lifted your shirt to your stomach to see the wound, but other than that, no.”

His words held his utmost assurance and she nodded. She knew he wanted to ask but wouldn’t unless she brought it up.

She looked at him. “I have a mark on my skin that I don’t want anyone seeing.”

Haytham cocked a dark brow. “A birthmark?”

“A _scar_.” (Y/N) looked past his head at the wall. “ _From a bad time_.” He seemed to understand, and her eyes focused back on him. “Maybe I’ll—”

She went quiet and Haytham echoed, “ _Maybe I’ll_?”

(Y/N) held out a shaky hand and he softly placed his in hers; she gazed at him and murmured, “ _I will tell you about it one day. I ask that you give me time though_.”

“ _Of course_ ,” he promised. “ _Your past is yours to reveal when you wish, (Y/N)._ ”

She pulled her hand away rather quickly, pretending to not notice the somewhat hurt expression on her face. “ _Thank you_.” She said hurriedly. “ _Now, get out so I can get up and change my clothes_.”

Haytham snorted. “Your mind changes _fast_ , you know that, yes?”

(Y/N) raised a fist. “I’m two seconds away from punching the stupid smile off your face.”

“Yes, yes, I know.” He chuckled and stood up, heading for the door.

She called out to him before he opened it. “Haytham?”

He turned and waited with a smile.

“ _Thank you…for watching over me…while I slept_.”

Haytham tipped his head, his eyes full of fondness for her. “ _Of course, (Y/N)._ ” And he was gone, leaving her with the full scent of cedarwood and peppermint— _of Haytham_.


	5. See Me For Real

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After agonizing over a way to show her trust palpably, she comes up with a simple plan. Cook 'em dinner and dessert. There's only one problem...she doesn't know how to make and bake pie.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little bit of fluff since I hit y'all with some heavy chapters prior. Enjoy! -Thorne

*****Set Six Months After Part Four*****

If anyone had passed her, they’d assume she had eaten something foul from the expression on her face. And rightly, that’s exactly what Gist assumed when he came into the tavern and saw (Y/N) hunched over a piece of parchment, a quill grasped tightly in her hand.

He walked over, craning his neck to see. “What are you writing, Miss (Y/N)?”

She didn’t jump this time, telling him that she’d at least known he’d entered the building. Her eyes darted to him and she gestured for him to sit. He did so and she said, “I’m thinking of ways I can show someone I trust them.”

Gist’s face lit up and he propped his chin on his palm, motioning to the bartender for a pint. “Oh, can I help?” he asked cheerfully.

(Y/N) shrugged. “I don’t see why not.” She looked back at the paper. “So far I’ve got… _next to nothing_.” She passed him the paper. “See for yourself.”

He made a dramatic show of snapping the paper and holding it out to read. “Now let’s see here.” It made her roll her eyes. “You’ve got…making tea…giving them flowers…writing them notes…” Gist looked at her. “These are _pretty basic_ ways, (Y/N).”

Her face pinched. “ _Well announce it to the whole bar, why don’t you_?”

Gist snorted. “These are things you do for anyone, (Y/N). Making tea is so common, I don’t think they’ll know the difference between _regular tea_ and _trustworthy tea_.”

At that, she laid her head on the bar and groaned, “ _I know_!” A sigh left her. “It’s _useless_. _I don’t know how to show I trust them_.”

He watched her for a moment, then furrowed his brows. “Can I ask who this is you’re trying to show?”

(Y/N) was silent for a second then she muttered, “Hayth— _Grandmaster Haytham_ … _and kind of Shay, but he’s a pain in my ass and sometimes I want to punch him_.” An unnatural grin worked onto Gist’s face and she scowled at it. “ _Stop fucking smiling. It’s not funny_.”

“Oh, _I’d never_ laugh at you.” He reassured. “It’s just…you _already_ do show you trust them.”

She raised her head, face pinching as she deadpanned, “ **What**?”

Gist laughed. “I think we can agree that your natural demeanor, Miss (Y/N), is that of a _sailor’s_.”

“ _Because I swear so much_?” she questioned.

“ **Because you swear so much**.” He answered, then he smiled. “You hardly use any profanity with Grandmaster Haytham as you do Shay and the rest of us.” Gist’s tone turned almost fond. “You’re rather… _kind_ with him. And with Shay, you don’t call him a dumb ass as much, _so that’s something_.”

The corner of her lip turned in disgust. “That makes me want to be _sick_.”

“Be that as it may, I think you already show you trust them, even if you’re not _actively aware_ of it.”

(Y/N) thought a moment then sighed. “I mean, I’m _glad_ that I am, but I want to do _something else_.” He cocked an eyebrow and she clarified, “I want to do something that will sho—that will _express_ _my trust_.”

“Why don’t you make them dinner?”

“I should do _what_ now?”

Gist snorted. “Shay eats anything you put in front of him, but Grandmaster Haytham won’t eat food he’s not sure is prepared by someone who won’t poison him.” He met her gaze. “Invite them to dinner and cook something—and then just say, ‘ _I trust you both’_.”

“ _That’s_ … _actually not a bad idea_.” (Y/N) surmised. “Do you know what Grandmaster Haytham likes to eat?”

“Not really…but I think I can speak for most when I say that you can never go wrong with meat and potatoes.”

“Stew?” she offered.

“Ooo! And make something for dessert too! A pie!”

(Y/N) glared at him. “ _Do you have pie-money to give me_?” Gist started to dig around in his pockets and she grunted, “ _Oh my god_ , _I was kidding_.”

He chuckled. “I can’t believe you just made a joke! That never happens!”

She scoffed, turning her head. “Why does everyone find it fun to point out things that are rarities for me?” She felt a nudge in her side.

“Because it means _you care_.”

“ _You’ll care when I plant my boot in your ass_.”

“And _there’s_ the normal (Y/N).”

She narrowed her gaze at him, but after a moment, gave him a smile. “You’re all right Gist. You know that?”

He stood and straightened his coat. “So I’ve been told a few times.” Gist tipped his hat to her. “Have a good day, Miss (Y/N).”

She waved him off, then went back to her list; she scratched her head and muttered, “ _I don’t even know how to bake pies_.”

*******

(Y/N) sat at the small table she’d set up in her room, nervously picking at the tunic she wore. She’d decided on forgoing a dress, if only to make Haytham and Shay believe she hadn’t _totally_ _lost her mind_ , but not wearing her usual leather armor made her feel vulnerable. Her fingers itched to pull on her jacket at least to give her back coverage, but she fought against it, forcing herself to stay seated.

A knock sounded at the door and she looked up, rising from her seat to cross the floor. She pressed her side to the door. “Who is it?”

Someone cleared their throat. “It’s Shay and me. We arrived together.”

(Y/N) took a deep breath and exhaled, but it sounded more like a groan and she unlocked the door, letting the two inside. She gestured awkwardly to the room. “Sorry it’s a bit cramped in here, but I figured a smaller area would be…better?”

Shay snorted and took a seat opposite of hers. “Gonna make us an offer we can’t refuse, lass?”

She huffed. “Something like that.” (Y/N) walked over to her seat, but before she could sit down, someone pulled the chair back for her. Her eyes widened when she saw Haytham smiling at her. _She didn’t even see him move._ She tipped her head in thanks, albeit a bit embarrassed and sat down, Haytham taking his seat between her and Shay’s.

They waited, eyes on her and with warm on her cheeks, (Y/N) motioned to the table. “Help yourselves. It’s here for you to eat.” She busied herself with cutting into the steak on her plate. “There’s beer on the side table over there if you want some, wine too. Or tea. There’s earl grey and Kuwaiti.”

Sensing her mild discomfort, they did as she said, fixing their plates. She watched them for a few moments, then asked, “Does…does it taste okay?”

Shay, with his mouth stuffed like a chipmunk, nodded. “Tastes great.”

(Y/N) glared at him and tossed a cloth his way. “ _Don’t talk with your mouth full._ ”

He grinned and covered his mouth. “ _Sorry mother_.” Her narrowed gaze made him snort.

Haytham took a sip of his wine. “The red wine pairs well with the steak and potatoes. And the flavors are perfect.” He looked at her. “Who cooked this?”

She swallowed nervously and murmured, “…I did.” Shay choked and she growled, “ _Oh go fuck yourself Shay, I didn’t poison anything_.”

The Grandmaster huffed a laugh, and she turned her glare to him, but he said, “You did a wonderful job, (Y/N). As Shay said moments ago, it tastes great.”

(Y/N) let out a _pfft_ but he could see a small smile cross her lips as she muttered, “ _Yeah, well…enjoy it while it lasts because it won’t happen again for a while._ ”

“I think I will,” he bantered, taking a bite of the steak on his plate.

The conversation eventually flowed into a good time of jokes and stories, (Y/N) even sharing a few of her own, and as the night dwindled, she brought the pie she’d made to the table. Shay reached over and she smacked his hand.

He rubbed his hand, and she pointed the pie server at him. “ _Reach over here again and instead of hitting you with it, I’ll stab you in the fucking hand_.” He stuck his tongue out at her and she rolled her eyes. “ _You’re such a child_.”

Haytham had long since taken his tricorn off, and with the few glasses of wine he’d drunk, she could see it was affecting him, his cheeks had a rosy tint to them. He propped his chin on his palm and leaned over. “Pie?”

(Y/N) nodded, ignoring the smell of his cologne drifting up her nose. “Apple…but it’s a little… _burnt_.” She looked at them. “ _In my defense I have never made a pie before_.” She plated three pieces and handed them to the men. “It _should_ taste okay though.” She watched them take their first bites. “Well?”

Shay glanced at her. “ _There’s no way this is your first-time making pie_.”

(Y/N) huffed and nodded. “It is. I’m more efficient at baking cakes.”

Haytham wiped his mouth and remarked, “If you ever wanted to leave the Templars, I would most certainly encourage you to open a bakery.” His steel eyes met hers. “This is delicious.” His fork flicked the burnt crust. “ _Even the burnt parts._ ”

She gave a strained smile and nodded. “Thank you.” Her eyes drifted to Shay’s plate and she sighed. “I’d call you a _piggy_ for eating so quickly, but that would hurt your feelings.”

He barked a laugh and stretched his arms above his head, letting out a _god-awful_ groan. “What can I say, _I’m a growing man_.”

A surprised look crossed her face and (Y/N) remarked, “So _that’s_ why you haven’t matured yet. Makes sense.”

Haytham snorted into his wine and the two burst into laughter as the man put the glass down and started wiping his face. She was wiping tears from her eyes when he was finished.

Shay reclined in his seat, fingers gently rapping the table. “Not that I don’t enjoy home-cooked meals by women who could kick my ass, but why did you cook dinner for us, (Y/N)?”

Her eyes drifted to the empty plates and serving bowls and she took a deep breath. “Well…” she started to drift off.

“Are you pregnant?” Both she and Haytham’s head shot up, looking to Shay.

“ **Excuse me**?” (Y/N) blurted out.

“ _Are. You. Pregnant_?” he repeated slowly.

“ _What? No_!” she said bewildered. “I’m _not_ pregnant.”

He seemed to be ready for that answer, asking, “ _Are you dying_?”

(Y/N) shook her head. “ _No, Shay, I’m not dying either_.” She pulled a face. “ _Why in God’s name would you ask_?”

Shay shrugged and took a swig of his tankard. “You look like you’re gonna give us bad news, so I felt like I should break the ice.”

She sighed heavily and pinched the bridge of her nose. “ _It’s a fucking miracle I haven’t yet strangled you with your own belt._ ”

“Are you telling me you’ve _thought_ about it?” Shay inquired with a cocked eyebrow.

“Thought? No. Dreamed? _Absolutely_.”

“ _You’re insane_.” His words held no heat, rather humor and she chuckled, shaking her head. Shay grinned. “There you go.”

(Y/N) arched a brow. “What are you on about?”

Haytham answered for him, nodding to her hands. “You’re wringing your hands (Y/N), like you’re _genuinely terrified_ to speak of what’s bothering you.”

Her eyes lowered to her hands and she finally realized how she’d been acting. Letting her hands relax, he added, “You have our full attention, (Y/N). _Whatever you have to tell us, we will respect it_.”

She pursed her lips and nodded. “Right, you’re…right.” The tension left her shoulders and she said, “I don’t trust easy— _let alone at all_ , but I did all _this_ ,” she motioned to the table, “to show _I_ … _trust you both_.”

Haytham regarded her. “Why do you doubt people around you?” His question wasn’t a request to tell, but it was calm, opening.

(Y/N) looked at him and she saw clarity in the haze of his eyes. “Someone I thought I could trust betrayed me when I was younger.” Her mind drifted to that morning in Rome, and how his mask of care had fallen away to reveal a monster. She shook her head and cleared it from her mind and pushed out, “I lived in… _pure hell_ …for a _very long time_ because of it.” She sucked in a ragged breath. “ _There are no words to describe what I endured…what I suffered through_.”

She felt the familiar burn in her eyes, and she shut them tight. “I _refuse_ to be put through it ever again.” (Y/N) kept her eyes shut, too afraid that if she opened them, she would break down. “ _So, this meal…was my way of showing that while I still doubt those around me…that doubt no longer extends to either of you_.”

Her chest hurt and she wanted to cry, but she kept her tears at bay, taking deep breaths in and out to calm herself.

“(Y/N)?” She inhaled and opened her eyes, coming face to face with Haytham, whose face held the sincerest expression she’d ever seen the man wear. He took her hand. “I think I speak for both Shay,” he quickly glanced at the other man who nodded, “and I when I say that this expression is accepted and appreciated.” He squeezed her hand. “And returned ten-fold.”

Her lips wobbled but she managed a breathless, “ _Yeah_?”

Haytham nodded. “ _Always_.”

Shay cleared his throat. “Lass, I know our favorite game is taking the piss on each other, but,” he searched for the words and declared, “but you’ve fought by my side. Protected me, even so far as to take a wound.” Her free hand drifted to her arm where she’d been cut months prior. “ _When it comes down to it, (Y/N), I would lay down my life for you_.” Finally, she broke, hands shifting to her face to hide it as she sobbed.

Haytham and Shay shared a look, smiles coming to their faces when she managed a _‘thank-you’_ through her tears.

A silence filled the room and for once in almost eleven years, (Y/N) felt a profound sense of peace.


	6. If You Don't Own My Heart, You're Never Gonna Break It

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Haytham has to come face to face with his feelings for her. And as the night dwindles, he's realizing they're deeper than he ever thought. But what is she hiding?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter does go deeper into the past. So it does recount moments of abuse and assault. If those are triggers, please be advised and please be responsible. -Thorne

Haytham…was conflicted. Which wasn’t something he was too keen on telling anyone, let alone admitting to himself—he was a rather proud man. Feelings of the heart—love, which he even dreaded thinking about it—were not something he was truly accustomed to following.

He’d not had any dalliances nor anything deeper since leaving Ziio and while he knew he’d never forget her, he couldn’t help but feel the same deep longing when he thought of (Y/N), the desire to hold her.

Regardless of the fact that their social standings proved error, she was about as tight lipped about herself and her feelings as a miser’s purse during tax season. She was temperamental and found herself in deeper situations than she realized, partially in anger, the other part— _well, it was mostly anger_. She was snippy and used so much profanity that Haytham was surprised she hadn’t been struck by biblical lightning.

But she was smart, absolutely, phenomenally intelligent, and could bounce theories with him back and forth for hours, pointing out every little instance of error and correcting it—(Y/N) was really the reason they’d conquered the gang-headquarters so easily, and increased trade-route with southern merchants. She could read and speak at least four different languages, from what Haytham had inconspicuously spied her doing so, and found that she gathered more information from drunk patrons than any of his top informants. She was broad-minded, which made him smile as he remembered the way she took Charles down six or seven pegs when she mentioned the Cherokee and Creek tribes. He’d never admit it, but the anger that had filled her and righteously come out towards his second-in-command filled him with great desire for her. He almost felt juvenile for even thinking about it. Foolish, is how he really felt.

And she was beautiful. Not because she took special care of her appearance—she did, but that wasn’t what Haytham meant—but because _she simply was_. She hid every aspect of herself that she could, her personality, her life, even her soul. And while Haytham couldn’t claim to be the most open person, even he was more so than (Y/N). He briefly wondered if his attraction to her was the result of her obscurity. Did he genuinely feel attraction to her? Or was he just enticed by her secrets? By the dark shadows that lurked behind her eyes, holding tight to an equally dark past? Haytham had the feeling that her past was just as dark as hers, and from the little pieces she’d shared, the scar, the betrayal, p _erhaps worse_.

He heaved a sigh and rubbed his eyes, waiting for the spots to disappear before he opened them once more. When he did, she was before him, a cocked eyebrow high on her forehead.

“That was quite a sigh.” She remarked. “Everything alright, Haytham?”

He almost smiled at how easily she used his name now but forced himself to frown. “I’m fine, (Y/N). Simply tired.”

“Probably wouldn’t kill you to take the day off,” she said, collapsing into the seat before his desk. “ _Or days_.” Her eyes shown with humor. “ _All work and no play makes dull boys. Isn’t that what they say_?”

Haytham chuckled. “Something along those lines.” He flicked a piece of paper her way, watching as she picked it up and read it. “Truthfully, _that’s_ what I’m dreading.”

(Y/N) glanced up at him. “I shouldn’t be surprised that the elite are holding a ball during a war, and yet, _I am_.” She tossed the invitation back onto the desk and crossed one of her legs over the other. “Are you required to go?”

“Not required,” He said, and she filled in for him.

“But bad manners and image on you if you don’t.” He nodded and she hummed. “So, what’s the deal? _All you have to do is go, say hello, spend an hour, and then leave_?”

He allowed himself a rare moment of complaint, lolling his head back onto the chair. “ _That’s_ the deal. I don’t want to spend an hour talking to uptight colonists.”

“ _This coming from the ‘King of The Uptight Gentries’, himself_?” (Y/N) deadpanned and Haytham’s head snapped up as he glared at her; she waved it off. “Don’t take this the wrong way, Haytham, but—”

“I don’t understand why people say don’t take this the wrong way, and then say something that is usually taken the wrong way.” He remarked and she rolled her eyes.

“Well if you don’t act like a pissbaby about it, you’ll be okay.” Again, she ignored his glaring eyes. “So, don’t take this the wrong way, but you’re an uptight asshole who’s arrogant around people who aren’t of the same social standing that you are.” His jaw dropped. “You think that people who are of lower classes aren’t really worth your time and that’s why you think attending a ball of the colonies is a pain in your ass—because you’re of the gentry and they think they’re better than everyone else.” (Y/N) simply wore a satisfied expression. “And that’s why all your friends are also uptight assholes.”

Haytham felt like he’d been slapped, and he could feel the heat creeping up the back of his neck and across his cheeks—she definitely saw it because she grinned.

“Aw, are you embarrassed?” (Y/N) huffed a laugh. “I’m not surprised. You’re not the type to get insulted with the truth very often.”

“I am _not_ embarrassed.” He countered, though his flustered appearance and voice did little to convince her.

She leaned forward and hit him with a barrage of commands. “Then look me in my eyes and tell me you’ve never disregarded someone because they were a servant or a maid. Tell me you’ve never disregarded someone because they didn’t have shoes on their feet and were begging for money or food.” Her eyes narrowed almost sadly, and she murmured, “Tell me you’ve never disregarded someone because they weren’t fortunate like _you_ , and born into a wealthy, high-class family that never wanted for anything.”

“I—” he couldn’t manage anything and it had been a long time since Haytham felt any form of shame, but as he lowered his head and frowned, he felt it searing through his chest with a fury.

“You’re a _good_ _person_ , Haytham.” His head shot up and he met her eyes, though they held a heavy bearing. “ _But for all the good you do for the upper-class…you’ve still got a long way to go with the little people_.” (Y/N) rose from her seat and headed for the door.

Something in his mind screamed at him to stop her and he called, “(Y/N), wait.” She turned, waiting for him, and he confessed, “I…have yet to find a partner to attend with me.” He tried for a smile. “Would you do me the honor of attending with me?”

A rare smile crossed her lips, and it made his heart thump wildly in his ribcage. “I shall.” She spun on her heel and opened the door.

“I’ll have a dress ready for you!” he added, and she simply waved a hand in response.

When the door shut, Haytham collapsed into his chair and breathed, “ _Oh god, what have I done_?”

***

He smiled politely at every couple that passed and while his composure gave off the feeling of full confidence, inside, Haytham was a mess. (Y/N) hadn’t shown up yet, and he felt like a fool waiting around for her. He briefly wondered if she was standing him up. And while he wouldn’t put it past her— _because it was something she would absolutely do_ —he felt like she would’ve at least sent a note before it. He let out an inaudible sigh and the ladylike giggle from behind him nearly sent him a foot in the air. He spun and he followed up an elegant navy-blue gown adorned with glittering jewels; he felt like he’d been shot.

(Y/N) stood there with a coy smile, the gown tailored perfectly to her. “Lord Haytham, if I may be so bold, it’s almost as if you’ve _never_ seen a woman before.”

His mouth opened and closed like a fish and he blurted out, “You look beautiful.”

She pressed a hand to her chest, toying with the ribbon at her décolleté, “I feel I should’ve known this was the color you’d choose.” She took his arm and squeezed his bicep. “Navy Blue _is_ your signature color.”

Haytham swallowed thickly and cleared his throat. “It’s always been an easy color to request.”

(Y/N) laughed delicately and whispered, “ _Liar_.” She nodded to the doors. “Do be a gentleman and escort me.”

He snapped his mouth shut to prevent any more embarrassing statements and did as she said. As they neared them, he murmured, “I can help you when you need it when dealing with the elite. Some things might be—”

“ _I know how to act like a lady, Haytham_.” Her words were short and clipped and they booked no room for questions, but something in the way her jaw set told Haytham that she’d learned etiquette in a less than pleasing way.

“As you say,” he replied and tipped his head at the guards stationed at the doors.

They walked inside and immediately he could feel the eyes of the room on him, and gauging (Y/N)’s reaction, she could too. But she merely smiled and batted her eyelashes as they passed the other attendees.

She gracefully plucked two champagne chutes from a servant’s tray and handed one to Haytham. “Here,” she hummed, taking a sip of her own.

He accepted it with a quiet, ‘thank you’, and raised it to his lips. It was light, bubbly, and pleasant to the palate and as it went down his throat, he looked to her. Her eyes inconspicuously drifted from the patrons of the ball, sometimes lingering on people she seemed to know, others she didn’t.

“Anyone catch you eye, (Y/N)?” It came off more teasing than he’d meant, and she chuckled.

“Why? Are you _jealous_ , Haytham?” She stared into his steel eyes. “ _Afraid to lose to a colonial man_?”

His jaw twitched and a flash of indignation came across him, but not at her—rather the thought of some other man taking his place.

A woman appeared from the side and practically squealed. “(Y/N)!”

She turned her head, face brightening at the woman in the lavender gown. “Grace!” (Y/N) pulled away from Haytham and he almost made a noise of complaint at the loss of contact. She hugged the woman before pulling away, looking her up and down. “Look at you! _You look absolutely_ _wonderful_!”

Grace flipped her long golden hair. “Well, it’s all thanks to you!” Her green eyes shifted to Haytham and she nudged (Y/N) in the ribs; a flash of pain crossed her face and Haytham almost asked about it. “Who’s this handsome fellow you’re with?”

(Y/N) shushed her. “Grace!” The woman giggled and she sighed. “He’s my boss.” She turned and held out her hand to Haytham. “Grace, meet Haytham Kenway. Haytham, this is an old friend of mine, Grace Montgomery.”

Haytham took Grace’s hand and pressed a kiss to the back of it, a charming smile on his lips as he greeted her. “A pleasure to meet you, Lady Montgomery.”

Grace giggled like a schoolgirl causing (Y/N) to roll her eyes. “The pleasure’s mine, Mister Kenway.” She looked at (Y/N). “If I wasn’t married to my Isaac, _I’d be beating you away with a stick_.”

(Y/N) couldn’t fight the rather unladylike cackle that left her, and she quipped, “ _You and every other available bachelorette in the colonies_.”

The women laughed and Grace looked at Haytham. “Mister Kenway, I hope you’ll allow me to steal (Y/N) away for a few moments. Isaac and I owe her a lot, and we’d love to catch up with her.”

Haytham saw a colleague coming his way in his peripheral and he smiled. “Of course. Please, enjoy your time.” He met (Y/N)’s eyes and winked, watching her turn away quickly, but with a smile.

*****Later That Evening*****

For a master of observation and tracking, Haytham was absolutely clueless about where (Y/N) had gone. She’d made a game of catching his eye the entire night and sending him flirtatious smiles— _at least, that’s what he hoped they were_. But somehow, she’d managed to lose his watchful gaze and disappear into almost thin air.

He inconspicuously looked around for her, not wanting anyone to know a man had lost his partner, _god forbid anyone ask where she was_. Haytham passed the balcony and stopped, catching sight of the familiar navy-blue gown billowing in the wind.

He walked up behind her and leaned on the railing beside her. “Long night?” he asked.

(Y/N) didn’t look at him, but a grin crossed her lips. “A lot of _smiling_ and _ass-kissing_.” Her eyes drifted to the rose garden below them and she offered, “Care for a stroll in the gardens?”

Haytham rose and held his hand out, watching her set hers in it. They ignored the looks people gave them and descended the stairs into the garden, finding refuge in the arch.

She sat on the bench, Haytham beside her and she looked up at the sky. “It’s beautiful out here.”

“It is,” he responded, but his eyes were on her. He watched her raise a hand to her ribs and gently prod the area. “Is something the matter?”

(Y/N) glanced over then down at her hand. “Oh, no. I recently got a tattoo and I—”

“ _A tattoo_?!” Haytham’s voice reeked of incredulity.

She rolled her eyes. “ _I take it you’re a tattoo-virgin, then_?”

He almost recoiled at being called a virgin of anything. “I’ve scars all across my body, but no…no tattoos.”

“They’re not that bad.” (Y/N) shrugged. “It’s sore, but nothing serious.”

“What is it?” Haytham asked, cheeks reddening, and he cursed himself at such delinquent thoughts running through his brain.

“A sun and a moon.”

“May I ask why those symbols?”

(Y/N) met his eyes. “To remind me that with the night comes the day.” He eyes went to the stars. “That there is hope for tomorrow.”

“That’s a beautiful sentiment, (Y/N).” he murmured.

She huffed lightly. “Feels a bit _childish_.”

“It’s not.”

She looked over and smiled heartfully. “Thank you.” He tipped his head in acknowledgement.

They lapsed into a peaceful silence and over time, their hands had drifted together, thumbs brushing the backs of them.

(Y/N) let her eyes fall to the ground. “It covers the scar below my left breast.” She felt his eyes on her but refused to look at him. “In fact, it’s _not_ a scar at all… _but a brandmark_.” (Y/N) heard his sharp intake of breath and she stood, suddenly feeling cramped.

She took a few steps away and leaned against the opposite arch, gazing out at the cityscape. “I received it when I couldn’t pay back the ‘time and resources’ he’d poured into me.” Her fingers dug into her side and the pain relieved her tension. “ _I was beaten and abused…humiliated and assaulted_.” The tears felt hot coming down her cheeks. “ _For fifteen years, I lived in hell_.”

“How’d you escape?”

(Y/N) looked over her shoulder; Haytham had stood and begun walking in an arc to stand on the other side of the arch. “I wasn’t the only girl there. There were others.”

“A harem then?”

She nodded. “Of sorts.” (Y/N) let out a heavy breath and wiped her cheeks. “A woman named Na’ilah trained me to fight. With my body, with weapons, with anything I could hold.” She met Haytham’s gaze. “We planned for two years to escape but…someone found out and told.”

“You obviously got out.” Haytham recognized.

“I did.” She nodded. “Na’ilah had managed to send message to a merchant’s boat. The guards appeared as we were boarding.” (Y/N)’s face twisted painfully. “Na’ilah threw me up to the sailors and told them to go. She…stayed behind to fight the guards off.”

“Did she succeed?” he asked.

“She did,” (Y/N) answered with pride. “She saw me off with a tearful smile and I never saw her again.” She looked at him. “I was twenty-five. I had no money, nothing to my name, and nowhere to go, but somehow I managed to get to the colonies and from there on I’ve…” she sighed heavily, her shoulders dropping. “I’ve managed to survive.”

Haytham stood up from his leaned position and held out his hand to her. She took it. “How many have you told your story to?”

(Y/N) scoffed. “That I haven’t killed afterwards?” He didn’t say anything, and she lowered her eyes. “You’re the only one.”

“ _Truly_?”

Her eyes shot to him and she scowled. “ _It’s not exactly something I find I enjoy reminiscing about, Haytham_.”

He shook his head. “I meant no disrespect, (Y/N).” He met her gaze. “I just assumed you’d found someone to tell.”

“ _Haytham, I’ve built a life on killing men who abuse women like I was. I’ve never really found time to tell people my life story_.”

“ _And yet, you’ve told me_.” His words were soft, and he stepped to her, free hand coming to rest on her cheek, warm and gentle.

(Y/N) narrowed her gaze, but it wasn’t with suspicion, rather fondness. “ _And yet I’ve told you_.”

Haytham’s heart grieved for her, for her pain, but with it came the urge to protect her. To keep her from ever feeling harm again. The indignation from earlier came back and with a harsh thump to his ribcage, he finally found himself admitting it— _he was irrevocably in love with (Y/N)._

“(Y/N), I want to—”

His words were cut off by the brush rustling and they split like they’d been burned, eyes narrowing suspiciously at the intrusion. A boot stepped out and (Y/N) picked up the concrete vase, raising it in defense. Someone turned the corner, and she felt her arms go slack.

“ _Shay_?”

The Irishman smiled, but it dropped when he saw the vase. “ _Oh my god, were you going to hit me with that_?”

“I mean—I don’t know!” (Y/N) gestured to him. “What the _hell_ are _you_ doing _here_?” She set the vase back down and he turned to face Haytham as well.

“We’ve got a bit of a situation, sir. We need you both.” The two looked at one another and Shay smirked. “ _Were you two having a moment_?”

Their heads snapped to him and they both snapped, “ **No**!” They met eyes and laughed, and Shay rolled his eyes, spinning on his heel.

“ _Yeah, yeah, and I’m the Queen of England_.”

(Y/N) glared at the back of his head and hiked her dress up, kicking him in the rear as hard as she could. “ _Yeah, and with hair like that, you’d pass_!”

Shay howled and turned on her. “ _That wasn’t nice_!”

“ _I’m not nice, Shay! I’m a bitch_!”

He scowled at her. “ _If my father didn’t teach me to respect women, I’d agree with you, but I won’t_.”

Haytham watched the two of them as they bickered, but his eyes kept drifting to (Y/N)’s face and all he felt was warmth spreading though him.


	7. Tell Me If It's Safe To Bare My Soul

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After a month long travel around the North Atlantic, she's finally put into a position where she has to admit her own feelings. But when they get back to New York, someone from her past comes back. What's she going to do?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anyone order a side of fluff? No? Well I got some anyway. Next chapter is it my friend! The moment we've been waiting for! -Thorne

She stood beside him as they sailed across the North Atlantic. The waves crashed against the hull of the ship, and the smell of salt surrounded them. Her breath came in and out in puffs of white and she couldn’t help but pull the leather jacket tighter around her to preserve heat. She’d almost taken him up on that offer of using one of his fur lined coats. An amused chuckle sounded beside her.

“If it’s too cold for you, lass, you’re more than welcome to go below deck.”

She scowled and leaned on the railing. “I don’t like being under the deck.”

“Why not?” his question held genuine curiosity.

“I feel cramped and it gets too hot” Her lip turned up in disgust. “I don’t even like being on the wa—”

A hand clamped over mouth and she froze, eyes narrowing into a dangerous glare as she looked at him; he frowned, condemning, “(Y/N). Don’t insult the ocean.”

“ _I will bite the shit out of you_.” She mumbled from behind his gloved hand and he pulled away.

“I’m just trying to save you from angering the Lady of The Seas.”

(Y/N) rolled her eyes. “The ocean is _inanimate_ , Shay. _It’s not alive_.”

“Says who?” he retorted with his hands propped on his hips like a child who’d been told off by their parent.

“ _Says science and basic fucking weather patterns_.” She countered, grabbing the wheel; she narrowly avoided an iceberg. “For the love of God, steer the ship. I don’t want to die now.”

Shay snorted but took the wheel back. “Relax, (Y/N). We’re not gonna die.”

“You say that,” she said, “But drowning _isn’t_ the way I wanna go. I’ve heard it sucks.”

“Only for a little bit.”

(Y/N) looked over at him. “Holy shit, that was _morbid_ , even by _my standards_.”

“I wasn’t aware _you had_ standards, lass.”

Her eyes narrowed. “Alright, now you’re just being an _asshole_.”

Shay snorted, but conceded, asking, “So if you hate being on the water, why are you out here?” She mumbled something and his brows furrowed. “What?”

(Y/N) heaved a sigh and repeated a bit louder, “Haytham asked me.” A big smirk crossed his lips and she pointed at him. “ _Shut up. Shut the fuck up, I don’t wanna hear it_.”

Evidently, he wasn’t afraid of her because he leaned over and with a singsong tone, he said, “ _You’re in love~_ ”

She elbowed him in the ribs as hard as she could, smiling with satisfaction as he hacked and bent over.

“ _That…wasn’t nice_.” He gasped, halfway leaning on the wheel.

“ _I have no sympathy to spare you_.” (Y/N) remarked.

Shay glared at her. “You’re not capable of sympathy, you _witch_.”

She cackled. “Witch? That’s a new one.”

“It suits you.”

(Y/N) looked at him, elbow propped on the railing. “Gonna call a religious inquisition on me?”

“Don’t tempt me,” he threatened, though it was heatless.

“ _If I’m going down for blasphemy, Cormac, you are too_.”

They glowered at each other but after an upturned corner on their lips, they burst into howling laughter, leaning on one another as tears fell down their cheeks.

When their laughter had finally subsided, Shay let out a loud sigh. “Aye, I haven’t laughed that hard in a while.”

She nodded. “Neither have I.” Her lips graced an easy smile. “I think I needed it.”

“Same here.” He gazed at her. “You’ve been unhappy for some time now, (Y/N).”

She couldn’t help but roll her eyes. “ _Uh huh_. And _how_ do you figure that one?”

He shrugged. “You looked like he was cracking your heart in two when he asked you to go while he stayed in New York to take care of business.”

“ _There’s no fucking way I’m that easy to read. Even I know I keep my emotions hidden better than that_.” (Y/N) griped.

“ _Oh, you do_ ,” he agreed. “But since the dinner, you’ve been rather open with us—him the most.” He met her eyes. “Like you’re finally okay with wearing your heart on your sleeve.”

“Can I vomit yet? I feel like vomiting.”

“Lass, that’s _love_.”

“No, I really wanna vomit. Like right now.”

“ _I dreamed my love came in my sleep~_ ” (Y/N) pulled a face at the song. “ _Lowlands, lowlands awa_ — **Urk**!” he grunted as she elbowed him again.

“ _Shut. The. Fuck. Up_.” She hissed. “I’m _not_ in love with him.”

“You…are… _God, what have you got in your sleeve_?” He caught his breath, then demanded, “Fine, if that’s how you wanna be, tell me what you think about him.”

“I—” she started then murmured, “I think he’s responsible…and brave…and a good boss who is way too nosey for my taste.”

“Okay, now that you’ve got the basics out of the way, tell me what you _really_ think about him.”

Her eyes were narrowed into a glower, but with a heavy sigh, she admitted, “I think he’s handsome…and kind and—” unbeknownst to her, a smile had come across her face, “And he’s always there when I need him.” (Y/N) looked at Shay who wore a grin.

“ _That’s love, lass_.”

Her face dropped. “Oh…” her eyes went wide. “ _Oh_!” (Y/N) gaped at him. “ _Oh my god! I’m in love with Haytham_.”

Shay leaned on the wheel and gestured to her, murmuring, “ _I wish I had a portrait done of your face just now because nothing will ever bring me such sick enjoyment as that moment_.”

She shifted, walking away on numb legs. “ _Oh my god, I’m in love with him_.”

“Lass? You okay?” he worried.

She waved a hand, continuing to mutter to herself and Gist passed her on the way to the quarterdeck. He stood beside Shay. “Is Miss (Y/N) alright?”

Shay snorted. “ _Oh, she’s fine. She’s just coming to terms with reality_.” Gist cocked an eyebrow, and he shook his head. “You’ll see when we get back to New York.”

*****One Week Later, Back In New York*****

As soon as her boots hit the pier, she was tempted to kiss the ground and Shay could tell because he chuckled as he stood beside her. “Glad to be back?”

(Y/N) didn’t have the energy to make a smart remark. “God, yes. I’m getting a hot meal when we get to the tavern and then I’m going to bed for forty-eight hours straight.”

“ _You gonna give Haytham a goodnight kiss before you do_?” he quipped.

Evidently, she wasn’t that tired, immediately looping her arm around his neck to dig her knuckles into his scalp. He laughed but it quickly dissolved into a grunt of pain.

“ _Ow! Ow lass that hurts! Quit_!” Shay plead with her.

“Nope! I suffered a week of your stupid jabs and now it’s payback time!”

He yanked against her and they tumbled to the ground, but she was on him, trying to shove his face in the dirt. “ _Eat it! Eat the fucking dirt_!”

The crew leaned over the side of the ship, watching the two of them wrestle around, shouting out bets on both of them—(Y/N) was winning so far. Just as they were about to start throwing actual punches, someone cleared their throat above them, and they instantly froze, heads tilting to see Lee glowering down at them.

“If you two are quite finished?”

(Y/N) let Shay out of the headlock and rolled off him, clambering to her feet before helping him up. They brushed themselves off, feeling warmth on their cheeks and Lee sighed.

“You’re both so _childish_. I can’t believe Master Kenway has such faith in you.”

She glared at him and spat, “ **Say it to my face, you stupid motherfuck** —”

Shay cleared his throat rather loudly. “ _To speak for my colleague, what are you doing here_?” (Y/N) knew Shay wasn’t that fond of Lee either.

Lee continued to glare at them, but his tone turned snotty. “Master Kenway has asked me to come and collect the two of you.”

“What for?” (Y/N) inquired, arms crossing over her chest.

“To introduce you to a new associate who’s been providing quite a great deal of money to our cause.”

“I wasn’t aware we needed monetary gains.” Shay muttered. “I thought we were all swimming in money.”

(Y/N) elbowed him the ribs. “ _We_ are, _you’re_ not.” She grinned. “You know, ‘cause _you’re poor_ and—”

He glared at her. “ _I got it_.”

She snorted, looking back to Lee. “So, who is it?”

Lee raised his chin rather haughtily. “He’s an Italian businessman by the name of Ausilio Viviani.”

Her arms went slack, falling by her sides and her breathing became uneven. Shay seemed to notice her immediate shift in demeanor.

“ _Lass_?” his voice was full of concern, but she couldn’t hear him.

(Y/N) jerked forward and gripped the lapels of Lee’s jacket, ignoring his cry of shock. She yanked him to her until they were nose to nose. “ _What did you just say_?”

He shook his head and sputtered, “W-what are you talking about?”

“ _His name_!” she screeched. “ _Tell me his name again_!”

“It—it’s Ausilio Viviani.” He stammered and she shoved him away, not caring that he fell to the ground. Her blood went cold, and she broke into a dead sprint across the docks.

“ _(Y/N)! Wait_!” Shay called, but it was no use, she wasn’t stopping. He yanked Lee off the ground. “ _Come on_!”

They started after her, trying to keep her in their sights, but with the way she weaved in and out of people, they were losing her.

“What’s wrong with her?!” Lee yelled.

Shay watched her back, feeling panic surge in his veins. “ _I don’t know_.”


	8. I Wanna Show You My Deepest Secrets

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She finally comes face to face with the demon of her past. How will it all play out in the end? Will they listen? Or will they be swayed by his silver tongue?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Friends, I believe this part of the story is called the 'Climax'. It goes very deep into the past trauma and abuse, so if that is a trigger, please do not read, and if you do, please be responsible. -Thorne

Her mind raced. Thoughts bounced off every surface as she shoved people from her way, not caring that they cursed her. Things she’d not thought about since her childhood came back, rearing their ugly heads so that she could see. Of all the things she’d expected, this wasn’t one. Not now. Not when she was almost free. Her boots slapped the pavement, but the sound was barely an echo in her ears, the sound of her pounding heart bursting over it. Air felt like it was trapped, like she hadn’t breathed in years, and her entire body was screaming at her to stop, at the very least slow down. But she didn’t. She had to get there. Had to warn Haytham what he was walking into. She had to stop someone else from suffering her fate.

*******

The man two seats down smiled as the Templars around him laughed at the story, and Haytham himself couldn’t help but chuckle as well. “And I told him that along with the supplies, the silk would come too! Just for insurance!” Another roar of laughter sounded around the man and he looked at Haytham. “Mister Kenway, you have a fantastic group of men here.”

Haytham regarded the others around the table and took a sip of his wine. “They are a rather wonderful group, Ausilio. Good company as well.”

Ausilio tipped his head. “I had a group once that I companied with.” He looked almost wistful at the thought. “Good men. Even better times.” They raised their glasses in a toast and the Italian asked, “So this group that you’ve sent for, tell me about them.”

A smile crossed Haytham’s lips. “Not so much a group as a pair that are practically armies all on their own. A sailor named Shay Cormac, and a lady named (Y/N) (L/N).”

Ausilio’s eyes went wide. “(Y/N) (L/N)?”

The Grandmaster’s steely gaze found the man’s. “Do you know her?”

“The name sounds familiar.” He shook his head. “I don’t remember from where I heard—”

The doors to the backroom slammed into the walls and Haytham was surprised to see the woman they’d been speaking of running inside. He rose to his feet, making his way over. “(Y/N)?” she shoved him away, her eyes on Ausilio, they held an unbridled rage.

“I knew,” she seethed. “I knew I would meet you again.” She shook with anger. “I knew that unless you were dead that I would never be free of you.”

Ausilio’s eyes narrowed and he laid his palms on the table. “Hello again, Evelina.”

(Y/N) audibly growled. “ _Don’t_ call me _that_! That is _not_ my name!” She pointed to herself. “ _My name is (Y/N)! It is the name my mother gave me_!”

“Evelina, please. You’re being—”

She pulled the flintlock from her side and pointed it at him. The entire room went still, the other templars leaning out of the way. (Y/N) cocked the hammer.

“My name, is (Y/N).” Ausilio stared at her and she whispered, “I will not let you coerce these people like you did me.” Tears filled her eyes and she spat, “I will not let you lie to them.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Her eyes darted to Haytham who’d stepped into her peripheral. “Do you know what he does, Haytham?” She looked back at him with a disgusted expression. “He finds girls who are orphans. Who don’t have anyone to look after them.” (Y/N) breathed heavily. “He takes them in and _feeds_ them, _clothes_ them, _educates_ them, _pretends to care_ about them. And when one year has passed,” tears slid down her cheeks and she whispered hoarsely, “He gives you a contract that demands you pay back the millions of pounds he spent on you.” A humorless laugh left her. “ _Taking back interest_ , he called it.”

Ausilio began to shift in his seat as the eyes of the men came upon him.

“None of us could pay back that much money. We didn’t work when we lived with him.” Her hand shook. “We trusted you to take care of us and you lied! You used us! You enslaved us! _You enslaved me_!”

“You are insane.” He countered and her eyes went wide.

“Insane?!” Her free hand undid the leather armor at her chest, and she pulled the tunic up just below her breasts. “You stood above me and _laughed_ as they branded me with your symbol!”

He smiled and nodded at her. “All I see is a tattoo of a sun and moon. There is no evidence of branding.” His eyes darted to Haytham. “Mister Kenway, I think your lady here is losing—”

“ _No_!” she cried, stepping in front of Haytham, trying to shield him. “ _You don’t get to undermine his faith in me_.” (Y/N) stared him down. “ _You don’t get to take what I have gained_.”

“You sound like you have cracked under some strain. What are you talking about?” Ausilio said, his eyes narrowed in sadness; it enraged her.

She let out a sob. “All these years, I’ve been so afraid of you. So terrified that you would find me again.” Anger mixed with pain. “But _that’s_ how you’ve always operated, isn’t it? You’ve built a life on sadistic pleasure and fear and making sure the girls and women never fought back. _Because there was too much to lose if they did_.”

“I don’t know what you remember, Eve—” her pointed gun made him clear his throat and correct himself. “(Y/N). But I never did anything to you.”

She shook her head. “It’s not what my memories are that are going to ruin you, Ausilio. You and I were finished the moment I left eleven years ago.”

He gazed at her and huffed a laugh. “Then what are you doing discussing this?”

(Y/N) pointed the gun at Haytham then back to him. “I’m making sure _Haytham_ knows the kind of man you are.”

Ausilio’s eyes narrowed. “And you think he’ll believe a _hysteric_ woman like yourself?”

She took a step forward. “I know that he trusts me with his life.”

“Does he?” he challenged.

“ _He does_.” (Y/N) declared, then took another step towards him until the table brushed her thighs. “Do you know what happens to people like you? Once it all comes crashing down?” Her eyes narrowed dangerously. “ _Once the dam loses its supports and breaks, the flood comes_.”

She let go of her tunic and raised a hand, a single pointer finger in the air. “ _One woman steps up. Just one_.” Another finger rose. “ _And then another one, and so on._ ” Her jaw clenched. “ _Because they are no longer afraid of you anymore. They know they’re not alone_.” She pointed to herself. “ _I am your dam, Ausilio_.”

He no longer paid attention to her, turning to Haytham. “Whatever _lies_ she has spoken of—”

“ _They are not lies_!” (Y/N) screamed. “ _You enslaved me for fifteen years! You raped me! You beat me until I was unconscious! Over and over and over_!” By now, people had gathered at the doors of the back room, Shay and Gist just behind her and Haytham. “ _One by one, every girl and woman will stand up until you can no longer deny that their claims are just lies_!”

He stood in a violent rage and she couldn’t help but step backwards. “Do you have any idea how many girls I helped? How many women I helped get out of poverty?” Ausilio gestured to her. “Look at yourself, (Y/N). You would be _dead_ if _I_ hadn’t helped you that day.”

Tears fell down her cheeks and she challenged, “ _Nothing I received from you was for free though, was it_?”

“I _saved_ your life,” defended.

(Y/N) felt fury course through her and she snarled, “ _Na’ilah saved my life! I saved my own life! All the way to the top of the Templars_!” Her voice rose. “ _I did that_!” she declared.

Ausilio walked around the table, but she kept the flintlock trained on him. “Are you saying that I had _no_ _part_ in your life? That _I_ had _nothing_ to do with making you into what you are?”

In an instance, the anger seemed to cool, and (Y/N) gazed at him. “No, Ausilio.” Her eyes met his and she agreed, “ _Actually everything you ever did to me has made me who I am_. You have everything to gain from that.” A relieved smile crossed his lips, but it was short lived as she explained, “ _Because of what you did to me, I am someone who will spend the rest of her life making sure men like you don’t live to see tomorrow_.”

He let out a breath. “Evelina, please.” His hands held out to her in a plea. “ _I never hurt you. I loved you_.”

(Y/N) shook her head and motioned downwards with the gun. “Get on your knees.” He didn’t move and she fumed, “Do it now!”

Slowly he rose until he was on his knees in front of her. She walked up and pressed the muzzle of the flintlock to his forehead. “Evelina.”

“ _You will never harm another innocent girl again. They will be free of your taint._ ” Her jaw tightened. “ _I almost don’t want to because death would be a kindness to you. You deserve every level of hell it has. And then again for a thousand years_.”

Before she could pull the trigger, a hand rested on hers and she looked up, wide eyed to see Haytham standing beside her, a frown on his face. “(Y/N), don’t.”

She stared incredulously at him. “ _Is this some type of joke?! This man is a monster! He deserves to die_!” she cried, and he nodded.

“I know.”

(Y/N) shook her head in disbelief. “Then… _why_?”

Haytham’s hand squeezed hers and he pointed out calmly, “ _If you kill him now, you won’t help to free the others he’s still imprisoning._ ” Her jaw went slack. “ _We need him alive to free them_.”

Her eyes drifted to Ausilio and she gaped at him. Haytham’s hand squeezed again. “(Y/N), trust me.”

“ _But he…he could get away. He could buy his way out_!”

Haytham shook his head. “ _He can’t escape justice now_.” Her mouth opened but he insisted, “ _He will rot in a cell until every girl is freed, and when they are, then you can deliver his punishment._ ” She stared into his eyes and he nodded. “ _I would never lie to you, (Y/N). **But I need you to trust me**_.”

(Y/N) let him take the gun from her hand and her arm fell limply by her side. Haytham nodded to Shay and Gist. “Take him.”

They yanked Ausilio off the floor and he screamed for her while he was dragged off, begging her, pleading her, but she didn’t listen, eyes stuck on the spot where he’d been. She felt numb all over, and tired, like she’d not slept in decades.

Haytham set the flintlock on the table and came to her, gently placing his hands on her arms. “(Y/N).”

She didn’t look at him. “I thought I’d feel relieved that he was finally caught but…I don’t know what I feel right now.”

He softly urged her to walk, directing her to the doors. “It’s okay, you have nothing to explain.”

(Y/N) vaguely remembered climbing into the carriage, stuck in a daze. “Where are we going?” she questioned lowly.

“I’m taking you home.” He said, his thumb drawing soothing circles in the back of hers.

“But the tavern—”

“I’m taking you to _my_ home, (Y/N). You will be safe there.” She felt tears gather in her eyes and she leaned over, resting her head on his shoulder. “ _And I will protect you_.” Haytham bent down and pressed a kiss to the crown of her head. “ _No matter what, darling._ ”

The last thing she remembered was the smell of his cologne before falling asleep. And finally, she felt the weight of worlds come off her shoulders. There was hope for tomorrow—whatever it may bring.


	9. Lay My Head On Your Chest And Just Surrender To You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's done. He's finally gone, but where does that leave her? She's built a life on leaving everything behind. Will she leave in the dead of night and leave Haytham with a broken heart again?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Friends, we have officially reached the end of this story. I hope you've enjoyed reading it (despite how heavy it was) as much as I enjoyed writing it. This is the first time I've written a character with such a backstory; I think I did well. As this is the end, I hope you've enjoyed! -Thorne

*****Set One Year After Part Eight*****

The execution occurred at dawn. There were no priests to bless last rites nor redcoats to see that it was an orderly punishment. It was merely her, the Grandmaster, and the Assassin-Hunter. It was a personal execution; one she would see the end of. One year of nonstop searching and rescuing. They’d freed some thirty girls and women across four countries. She was present for each and every one. She owed them that much.

She watched with a frigid gaze as they’d secured him to the giant oak stake, then poured the oil all around, making sure to douse his body with it as well. They returned to her side and the Grandmaster lit the torch, handing it to her. With slow steps she walked to the edge of the pyre and gazed at up him. He stared back with a dead gaze—an entire year in a cold, harsh cell had finally deprived him of himself. It was little compared to what they suffered.

“Come to offer divine justice?” his voice was low and scratchy, like he’d not tasted water for days—not that she cared.

Raising the torch, she replied darkly, “If there was such a thing as divine justice, you’d be long gone already.” She lit the oil around him and met his eyes. “ _I hope you burn in hell forever, Ausilio Viviani_.”

Taking a few steps back, she watched as he went up in flames, the fire dancing in her eyes, casting shadows across her face. His howls of anguish echoed across the hills, but it sounded like the sweetest music in her ears.

She stayed until his skeleton fell to ash at the bottom of the pyre then turned on her heel and walked past them. “It’s done. I’m leaving.” Neither of them chased her, though the one felt his heart reach for her.

*****Later That Evening*****

Haytham rubbed his eyes for what seemed like the millionth time, hoping that it would clear the strain so he could keep writing, but it did little to soothe it. Figuring it was time to call it quits, he lightly clicked the quill to the ink and set the pen in its holder. Closing the ink, he drew his eyes to the door, feeling someone in his presence. “Come in.” He’d said it just as they knocked, and he heard a huff.

The door opened and Shay walked in, closing it behind him. “I _hate_ _it_ when _you_ do that.” He collapsed into the chair in front of Haytham’s desk. “Makes me think you have some _sixth sense._ ”

“ _Maybe I do_?” Haytham quipped, grinning when Shay grimaced; he sighed and reclined in his seat, crossing a leg over the other. “To what do I owe this visit, Shay?”

The Assassin-Hunter frowned and slouched in the chair. “Haven’t seen (Y/N) in a while. Gettin’ worried about her.”

Though Haytham felt the same, he didn’t voice it, instead offering, “I can’t imagine she’s too keen on being around anyone right now.”

“I know that,” Shay countered. “But she’s not at the tavern and I’m not sure where else she’d go. Me and Gist have looked everywhere.” He met the Grandmaster’s eyes. “I figured you’d be with her.”

“ _Me_?” Haytham inquired, eyebrows raising. “ _Why me_?”

Shay rolled his eyes. “ _Really? This is how we’re gonna do this? You too_?”

“I don’t know what you—”

“ _You’re in love with her, Haytham_.” He grinned at the pure shock crossing the other’s face. “ _Seriously, I wish I had portraits of your faces. It’s pure contentment for me_.” Shay groaned as he rose from the chair and stretched his arms above his head. He lowered his arms and looked at Haytham. “She loves you too, you know? But we both know she won’t say anything.”

“ _She loves me_?” was all the other could manage and Shay sighed.

“ _You know that thing inside your skull helps with the thinking process, right? Using it is strategically beneficial_.”

Haytham glared as he rose from his seat, pulling on his jacket and cloak. “ _That’s the one time you’re allowed to insult me and get by free._ ” He placed the tricorn on his head. “Get out of my office, Shay.”

Shay sent him a salute. “Aye, sir.”

*******

He ran all over the streets of New York after he left the tavern. Apparently, the last time Anita had seen her was that morning when she came to collect her things. People gave him odd looks and he didn’t blame them. Someone even commented on how he must’ve missed an anniversary. _That one almost made him punch them_. He sped down another alley and came out the other side, eyes darting up and down the street before cursing. She was no where to be found. Haytham wondered if she skipped town and took his heart with her. _No._ He thought. _I let her go, I won’t let (Y/N) go.”_

He thought back on all the times that they’d spent together, every place, every moment. His gaze shifted in the direction of the manor where’d they’d attended the ball together. It was a long shot, but he didn’t have any better options, and he spun on his heel, sprinting for the gardens.

*******

She sat on the bench, watching the stars twinkle above her. The leather bag in her hands felt heavy, and as it should be, it held all she owned. Something ached in her heart, but she avoided thinking about it—avoided thinking about him.

Figuring it was finally time to leave, she stood and hauled the bag over her shoulder. A scratching behind her made her panic and she turned, pulling the gun on whoever was coming from out the bushes. They came face to face and she lowered the gun. “Haytham?”

He grinned at her. “ _I’m beginning to see what Shay feels on a regular basis_.”

(Y/N) couldn’t help but laugh at that and she holstered the gun. “What are you doing here?” she asked, eyes narrowing suspiciously.

“I’m here to stop you from making a terrible mistake.” He said, brushing off the leaves and twigs stuff in his clothes.

“Excuse me?” she questioned, cocking an eyebrow. “ _I think it’s bold of you to assume I make mistakes_.”

“Is it though?” he countered, smirking as she glared.

“Alright, you can stop being an _ass_.” (Y/N) scratched at the leather bag handle. “Seriously, what are you doing here Haytham. How’d you even know I was here?”

He stood straight with that arrogant stance that made her patience run thin. Haytham walked past her and looked up at he sky. “I figured you’d come back to a place that has significance to you.”

“ _Oh_? _And what significance is this place_?”

He turned, meeting her gaze. “It’s where we _both_ started feeling for one another.”

“ _Your arrogance is astounding_.” (Y/N) crossed her arms over her chest. “ _Really, you’re so arrogant you make Odysseus look humble_.” She stuck her tongue out at him when he rolled his eyes, then looked off at one of the rose bushes. “Besides, how do you know I have feelings for you?”

“Are you asking because you do?” Her silence made him chuckle. “Shay told me.”

Indignation flared across her face and she hissed, “ _I knew it! I knew that stupid shit spilled_!” She spun on her heel, intent to march to Fort Arsenal and kick Shay’s ass. “ _I’m gonna plant my foot up his backside_.” As she passed Haytham, his arm shot out and he stopped her.

“Wait.”

(Y/N) did, albeit with a glare. “Do you wanna do this dance, Haytham?”

He leaned close, getting nose to nose with her. “ _If it means you’ll be my dance partner forever, then yes_.” Her eyes went wide, and he professed, “ _I won’t let you leave. Not now. Not when so much has happened between us_.”

“ _My_ _departure isn’t your decision to make_.” She retorted, and Haytham could feel her bicep flexing under his grip.

He nodded. “I know.” His free hand cupped her cheek. “ _But I let love slip through my fingers once before_.” Haytham pressed his forehead to hers. “ _I won’t allow it to happen again_.”

(Y/N) stared into his eyes, trying to formulate a response. _Say something._ She thought. _Anything!_ “Are you sure _you_ _want me_?” _Not that!_

He pulled away and laid his head on her shoulder, and she felt him shake against her. “ _Oh my god, are you laughing at me_?!”

“ _Just a_ _bit_.” He said.

She shoved him away and stalked over to the bench. “ _Oh, you’re such an ass_!” He followed, taking a seat beside her, grinning while she silently fumed.

They sat in silence for a while and sometime during that, their hands had come together, fingers lacing between the others. (Y/N) rested her head on his shoulder, and this close, she could smell the twinge of peppermint and cedar. She looked down at their hands, examining all the small scars they had.

“My mother got sick one day…and she never got better. She died when I was nine years old.” She felt his head tilt, telling her that he was listening. “I lived on the streets for a year until Ausilio found me.” His hand tightened on hers. “I felt so safe that first year. I thought everything would be okay but…I couldn’t have been more wrong.”

“You said you were afraid he’d find you again.” He murmured quietly, like she was a doe and easily spooked.

“I was.” She nodded. “I’ve never stayed in one place more than two years.” Her eyes drifted to the leather bag. “I figured since I was well past two, I might as well leave.” Again, his hand tightened. “But now…I don’t know if leaving is the best thing.”

“It’s not.” He said.

“ _So sure_?” (Y/N) teased.

“As sure as I’ve ever been of anything.”

“ _Can’t be much_.”

“ _Shay’s right, **you are mean**_.”

(Y/N) barked a laugh. “ _Oh, and you’re **not**_?”

Haytham raised her hand and pressed a kiss to it. “ _Never said_ _I wasn’t_.” He turned his head and gazed at her. “ _Stay here with me_ ,” he breathed.

“I’m not exactly a team player, Haytham.” She countered.

“I’ll be one for you.”

“I curse a lot.”

“Every couple needs a foul speaker.”

“I’m not a gentry member.”

“My name is big enough to cover you.”

“I get in fights a lot.”

“I can patch you up.”

She narrowed her eyes at him. “ _I’m running out of things to scare you off with_.”

He grinned. “ _I can tell_.” He reached up and poked her nose. “I’m _not_ going to be scared off that easily.”

(Y/N) didn’t speak for a moment, then she whispered, “ _I’ve got a lot of scars. On my body…and my soul_.”

Haytham searched her eyes then cupped her cheek. “ _I do too_.” He ran his thumb under her eye, wiping a tear away. “ _And I’ll help heal every one if you’ll let me_.”

Tears threatened to spill over her eyes. “You want a _broken_ woman like _me_ , Haytham?”

He shook his head. “The woman before me isn’t broken.” He brushed another tear away, but they kept falling. “The woman before me has rebuilt her castle from ruins.” He pulled away and knelt before her, taking her hands in his. “ _She is unbreakable. She is unshatterable. She is power incarnate, and she holds the world within her hands_.” Haytham took a deep breath and bared his soul. “ ** _And she holds all that I will ever be in those hands. I would do anything for her_**.”

(Y/N) let out a breath that sounded more like a garbled sob and she shifted one of her hands, bringing it up to hold against her mouth.

Haytham smiled heartfully. “ _I love you, (Y/N) (L/N)_.”

She let out a watery laugh, not able to fight the wobbly smile across her face. “ _You are…one sappy fuck_.” (Y/N) pressed her hand to his cheek and he reached up, holding it against his skin. “ _I love you, Haytham_.”

He huffed a laugh, feeling tears gather in his eyes. “ _Yeah_?”

She nodded and whispered, “ _Ask me again to stay_.”

Haytham swallowed thickly. “ _(Y/N), will you stay here, with me? For as long as time will give us_?”

(Y/N) nodded vigorously. “ _Yes. Yes_.” She pulled him from his knees, pressing her lips to his. “ _I’ll stay with you_.”

They broke apart and pressed their foreheads together, tears trailing down both their cheeks. She’d found her freedom. She’d found her hope in helping others. But the one thing she never thought she’d find, she did— ** _love_**.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Nah, I'm fuckin' with y'all. I'll probably write an epilogue sometime lol. I wouldn't leave you hanging like that! Ooo, maybe the reader will be at his grave at 100 years old and the final scene will be her waking up to see all her old friends and favorite Grandmaster! -Thorne


End file.
